Game of Thrones: Enter Conan Battleborn!
by Hikaru Kurosaki
Summary: Everyone also knows that Khal Drogo chose Daenerys as his khaleesi, but we don't know what happened to women Khal Drogo's mounted, or the child as a result of the union. Enter Conan! Khal Drogo's firstborn. The dosh khaleen told Khal Drogo about the prophecy of the Stallion Who Will Mount the World and the khalasar thought it meant Rhaego...maybe not? ConanxSansaxDanyxArianne
1. Enter Conan!

**A/N: Just to let you know, I'm pretty impulsive. I've had this story in my head since I encountered Game of Thrones. I love the series and I've been putting this story in my private notebook for a while. I know some of you are wanting me to update my other stories and soon I'll have enough time to do all that but I really wanted to get this story up here because I've been reading so many similar stories that just didn't satisfy my urge for a story like this.**

The hot deserts of Essos, across the plains of abundant grass of the Dothraki Sea serve as the home of the nomadic, savage horse lords known as the Dothraki. The Dothraki life style are what those who reside in typical cities would consider rough and violent as well as undesirable. They train rigorously due to their love of and respect for combat and warfare, they also make it a priority for Dothraki boys to be able to not only appreciate and fight on horseback. We now find ourselves following the story of the Dothraki _khalakka_, Conan.

_Fourteen years before the main story line, the mighty Khal Drogo was but a young, strapping early to mid twenties old warlord and he had just raided a small village outside one of the Free Cities as the Dothraki were reaping their spoils of gold, food, alcohol and women. Most of the Dothraki are rough and forceful when they encounter other people so the women were just brutally raped in plain sight of all the men who were made into slaves as they cursed the day the Dothraki came into existence. As Khal Drogo drank his fill, his hooded, bright forest green eyes fell upon the obviously fairest beauty among the women caught that day who looked about his age._

_The woman was in between many of the other captured women; defiance and daring clearly plastered on her flawless face. Even from her crouched position, she looked beautiful with platinum blonde hair that almost looked silver in the light which used a beautiful ornate hairpiece to hold it in its simple long ponytail, golden eyes, her skin fair and beautiful with no flaw to be found in her heart shaped face, she had a small nose and full pink lips that seemed oh so soft and supple. One of the Dothraki yanked her up by her arm as a high pitched yelp came from her before she brought up her hand in a sharp smack at the man's face but he caught it and looked to be getting angry as she continued attempts to strike , giving Drogo a good view of her curvy, voluptuous figure with at least C cup, firm and perky looking breasts, a flat stomach, and legs that seemed to go on for miles._

_"Submit, you worthless bitch!" yelled the Dothrak in their native tongue and was about to strike her before Drogo suddenly approached and pulled the man from her, disorienting him with a powerful punch to the side of the face then took his arakh before cutting him across the chest, killing him in the Dothraki way when fighting for a woman. He focused his piercing gaze on the woman who seemed to erect this rebellious disposition, but on the inside, the mere might of this man's presence and the previous display of his prowess made her begin to feel some effects of fear. While he was this imposing figure, he moved with a predatory grace akin to that of a panther, looking as the epitome of a savage beauty as his steely muscles wrought from years of combat, physical labor and his hard, stern disposition made the woman's insides do flips. She wanted to resist when he took her hand and led her to his tent, but it felt as if he were giving her a choice and not as if he were threatening her, which made her curious as to how such a man would come to lead such brute savages. He seemed so genuine and it looked as if he very much wanted to take her but he didn't seem like his subordinates who took it regardless. His forest green eyes were glazed with tempting, haughty passion that made her inner woman ignite with intense desire. She didn't even know his name or anything about him, they hadn't even spoken words but she could feel passion unlike any other she's felt before._  
_They seemed to wait there forever, simply boring their gazes into each other as their minds ran wild with all of the possible things they would do to the other if the pesky minimal distance between them would close up for them._

_It was a battle of wills and they were waiting for the other to crack. It seemed as if neither were going to be giving up soon until Drogo closed the distance but kept his face just inches from the woman's as the sexual tension increase tenfold as he ran his tongue over his own lips in anticipation of the events to come. The woman, not prepared for the bold move, simply watched as his tongue licked his lips slowly and she felt an aching in her "most holiest of places", telling her she needed a release...bad. Her amber eyes took on a predatory glint as she attacked his surprisingly soft, warm lips with her own, using her tongue as he did to lick his lips almost as if begging for entrance into his mouth. He allowed her entrance but swept her up and laid her down slightly roughly, exciting the woman's senses as he slipped his tongue into her mouth simultaneously, exploring every inch of it and tracing her jawline slowly. He then bit down on her lower lip and sucked on it, eliciting a moan from the beauty as her hands roamed over his bulky, steely muscled chest and defined abs, slowly trailing her way down to the waistband of his pants, trying to get them off._

_He loved the feeling of her soft, dainty hands squeezing and feeling his muscles then helped her to remove his pants as she gasped at the sheer size of the warlord's manhood. He wasn't quite like the horses he rides, but he was a horse among men and the sight of such an appendage made her needs for release that much more intense as he then turned her around while still kissing her neck and shoulder, dragging his lips and the tip of his tongue slowly down to her collarbone and bit down rather hard, and the woman filled the tent with a loud, lusty moan. He nibbled on the collarbone as he slowly undid her dress and let it fall to her feet as he eyed every inch of her body with a lust-filled gaze then bent her over and leveled his cock with her pussy as the woman prepped herself for the entering and she screamed as he pounded into her with his cock, but he stopped and laid his chest on top of her back as he soothingly rubbed her arm as she recovered from the pain of losing her maidenhead while Drogo used much of his willpower trying to not react to her tight pussy squeezing the life out of his cock. Once she did, she smirked inwardly as she began thrust her butt into his groin, sliding her pussy along the length of his cock inside of her as Drogo moaned in surprise as he wasn't expecting her to be so eager after just losing her virginity but here she was, fiercely pumping at his cock with her womanhood. He moaned as he began to ravage her, reaching around and rubbing her breasts as his fingers pinched and lightly brushed the nipples. She moaned in ecstasy, feeling an insurmountable pleasure she'd never felt before as she continued allowing him to take her over and over, relishing in the feeling of his cock penetrating her. _

_9 Months Later_

_Drogo's braid grew ever longer and his prowess in battle became feared throughout Essos as being the strongest warrior in the continent. He had crossed blades with other Khals and felled them when they tried to challenge his might, but they all fell the same, thus granting him their khalasars which brought him up to at LEAST half of what he will soon have in the decade to come. He watched as the woman who he mounted 9 months before, walked around his khalasar's camp in Dothraki clothes with her stomach swelled up nicely, signifying her pregnancy though it did nothing to diminish her beauty. She spotted him staring at her and flashed him a soft smile to which he smirked in return, from his throne. Suddenly the cries of an army along with the thunderous beating of hooves sounded through their camp and Khal Ogo's khalasar stormed into the camp, beginning to pillage and strike down stunned Dothraki civilians as the men instinctively mounted nearby horses and began combating the opposing khalasar. Khal Drogo slowly stood and walked out towards the fighting from his throne, gripping his razor sharp arakh and glaring with his even more piercing green gaze as Khal Ogo grinned and dismounted, wielding his arakh as well though Drogo could see a hint of hesitation that reassured him of his soon-to-be victory. They belted out battle cries as they clashed blades. As if on cue, the clash of blades was drowned out by the booming of thunder and flash of lightning as the clouds overhead began pouring rain onto the battlefield, doing little to put out the raging fires started by Khal Ogo's khalasar of Drogo's camps, filling the air with the smoke of the fire. Their current camp was rather close to the Narrow Sea, so the waves were raging about and many torrents of water hit the camps._

_The woman moaned in pain as she leaned against a rock, the stress of everything making her labor worse. She felt a liquid run down her leg, her eyes widened as she realized her water had been broken. Her baby was kicking and being overall restless, though while it was putting her through much discomfort, she wondered if the child's Dothraki blood was reacting to the battle and that was why it "decided" to enter the world now, of all times. Several Dothraki of what she assumed to be the opposite khalasar surrounded her and grinned lustfully. They brandished their cocks and pinned her to a boulder, but she wildly lashed out with her arms as attempts at defense and successfully managed to punch the closest Dothrak, which caused him to lose focus as the ferocity of the blow was unexpected and he momentarily let go of her as he nursed his stinging jaw. He looked up at her with a look of pure fury and was about to let loose a devastating blow to her stomach but she suddenly lashed out with her freed hand, stabbing him in between the eyes with what looks like a hidden knife which was actually hidden with the hairpiece she had often. The other men disarmed her then fully restrained her as the other dropped dead. They then proceeded to beat and cut her around her body but miraculously none of it made it to her womb, just her torso and back then one of them let go as they bent her over as he prepared to mount her first. _

'No...no...NO...I don't want to be taken like this. Damn it all! Why must this happen when I was finally happy?' _she thought as her eyes began to water as she felt the rough hands of the Dothraki pulling at her clothing and the smug chuckling of the gang before suddenly it turned into gagging as a graceful, fluid motion spun through the gang as a whirling dervish of sword swings, ending up with the men sustaining life threatening injuries to the throat, torso, spine, back of their neck as well as emasculating them by striking through their brandished flesh swords which showcased her savior's incredible dexterity, precision, stealth, accuracy, control and swordplay as he then decapitated them by swinging his arakh in an arc, lobbing of their heads through their necks. She blinked away her tears as she looked up to see the majestic, powerful sight of her strong Khal Drogo, gripping his bloodied arakh tightly and the severed head of Khal Ogo who's lifeless eyes seemed to have the lingering look of fear and defeat, as Drogo seemed to look down at the fallen men with a terrifying look of unadulterated rage before looking to her and only expressing sorrow but it seemed as if his mesmerizing forest green eyes looked past her as he knelt by her and held her, dropping both blade and head as he looked over her body, taking note of the injuries. She knew he was only interested in the baby that came about from her, which is why she wasn't made an actual khaleesi despite his obvious physical attraction to her. However, she didn't care because he was willing to take care of her and her child with all of his might, he could grow to love her._

_Suddenly the healers of the khalasar and the men he had won over from Ogo's khalasar picked the woman up from his arms and put up a tent as the storm raged on outside. Drogo and Rakharo, one of Drogo's most trusted men and_ ko,_ shared a look as in a moment of clarity, they realized they could not find Ogo's _ko _anywhere but a pain-filled screech came from the bearer of Drogo's heir so they put it aside for now..._

_An hour later_

_BOOM! Suddenly all those outside the tent looked up at the dark night sky to investigate the noise that shattered the silence they'd been in to see a blood red comet shooting across the sky with a long red tail. It was the deepest red they'd ever seen and the Dothraki began to shout._

_"Shierak qiya!"_

_One of the women stepped out of the tent and motioned for Khal Drogo to enter where he and many of the khalasar were waiting to hear what had become of the woman and their khalakka. Drogo took a deep breath and walked inside, hearing the sound of high-pitched wails as he parted the tent. He saw the woman on a bed though her eyes were barely open but full of love as she looked down at a baby with olive skin, a mess of black hair with a brown sheen, same colored eyebrows, black long eyelashes along with medium aquamarine eyes that resembled a deep blue-sea green ocean as opposed to his father's forest green shade which were producing tears as a result of its few minutes of life, small nose, pink lips now pulled back into a smile that resembled his father's. He was an exceptionally beautiful baby and there was no doubt even in such a person as Drogo who rarely took note of such things when not in context to grown women that he would potentially mount, that his son would be incredibly handsome as his father. They could also feel a sense of restlessness, deviousness and trouble-making from the boy's gaze alone. _

_Suddenly, they were all brought out of their thoughts of the boy when the woman went through a violent coughing fit which ended up with some blood being coughed up onto her arm. Drogo immediately went by her side and took her hand._

_"What is wrong? Are you not well!?" exclaimed the distraught khal. He looked to the healers for answers but the woman answered him._

_"It would seem I will not be able to stay much longer with you nor our little Conan and his life. My injuries and the stress of the pregnancy appears to have been too much for my body to handle, so now I am dying...my khal, I am sorry I truly wanted to see and help our boy grow into a fine man like his father." she started to cry weakly into Drogo's chest as he held her close. He himself refused to let the people around him see his tears though he let loose a soft whimper that only she heard for being so close. He didn't love her as he should a khaleesi but the past few months with her had been very nice with her, he grew to care for her as much as his_ ko_._ _Suddenly they felt two extremely small, soft hands touch their intertwined hands, and they saw Conan smiling brightly as he looked up at them. They felt their anguish and pain wash away, the joy of baby Conan making them momentarily forget everything and just feel like a family. The woman smiled as tears of joy ran down the sides of her face before pecking the boy on the forehead, whispering words of love before she kissed Drogo a final time, who kissed her back but with the emotions of sorrow he had for her and the hope she finds peace in the Nightlands. _

_"Take care of our son..." She said then laid her head in the crook of his neck and died with a peaceful smile on her face. Drogo's face became solemn as he uttered "I swear it by the Mother of Mountains."_

* * *

_6 Years Later_

_Khal Drogo sat in his throne as his _ko _began instructing the four year old Dothraki boys how to shoot from horseback as the younger boys were still learning how to ride. The boys were fairly good, many of them were showing good progress for their age, though many of them struggled to get past the widest circle and those who did could not do it consistently but Drogo was proud of the future members of his khalasar. _

_Cohollo, who stood by Drogo as a guard, smiled to his khal. "The youth are progressing slowly, but surely. We will surely have a strong khalasar!" _

_"Aye...it is only natural for them to be strong with the guidance of such strong mentors." said Drogo as he smirked at Cohollo who smiled bashfully, being one of the less arrogant Dothraki._

_"How is the young _khalakka_?" asked Cohollo._

_"I must say he's become quite the troublemaker and he's only 6 years old, but his growth astounds me and I was told I was a prodigy when I was his age. He's constantly run and brawled with the wild animals since he was 3. Not to mention, he learned how to shoot from horseback at 3 making him the youngest to do it in our history. His tenacity is admirable. Whenever the animals knock him down, he gets back up and fights ferociously, it makes me proud, but strangely enough, he never kills them unless hunting. His love of battle, determination and willpower surpass any I've ever seen, even in some of the greatest men and warriors I've known. When he wants to get a skill down or win a battle, he stays focused on that single task and his love of battle is astounding. His love of battle even carries over to his skills as he has a natural talent for the martial arts, especially swordplay. The khalasar even go so far as to call him Conan Battleborn due to the battle with Ogo prior. He is also always roughhousing with other boys. Normally it would be fine, but his standard training alongside the training with the animals as well as the training I personally give him has made him much more physically capable than even most of the adult warriors so he really injures them. He even brawls with adults whenever they get into disagreements or if they disrespect him. His temper is starting to become feared by those who are on the receiving end but everyone else enjoys his good naturedness, willingness to help and humor even if he is strange when it comes to some of our customs. He constantly ventures out into the unknown and tries to learn everything that piques his interest. The dosh khaleen adore him because he always asks about stories of past khals and legends. He asks Jorah the Andal to teach him his language and of his culture, for some reason. He also befriends the slaves, they seem to be so familiar with him that they address him by name and even hit him yet he does nothing in retaliation, whereas if one of our warriors were to do the latter, he'd beat them within an inch of their life. When the warriors try to beat the slaves for being so familiar, he fights for them. He has completely disregarded our hierarchy. And as suspected, he is such a trouble-maker. Just yesterday, he replaced most of my ko's war paint with horse shit and they didn't know why they stunk so badly. He also purposely brought out one of the mares in heat and rode it past Mago's horse so that the horse would toss Mago off of it and give chase. Also; I'm not completely sure but I believe I've heard muffled noises coming from the khalakka's tent that when coupled with the way the female slaves look at him and from the way they interact, its as if he manages to make them _want_ him to mount them but he never does anything aside from teasing and flirting. I sometimes sneak peaks in the tent to make sure and it seems mostly like the girls fill up in his tent and simply converse with him. I suppose it makes sense as he is too young to really feel the urge to mount them, but he treats them as if they were of us. Most of all, what really worries me is the fact he constantly climbs the really tall trees and explores the poison water despite our warnings to stay away from it. He continues to explore it regardless, he is as stubborn as his parents and extremely curious. Despite his attitude, the khalasar don't know if they want such a strange boy as their khal should he one day surpass me, which knowing his determination, he will. As a khal, I must lead the herd well but my duty as a father and the promise I made to _her, _dictates I help Conan." stated the khal as he opened up to his friend, who he'd known since their younger days when he was a teenager and Cohollo a young man. _

_Cohollo could not understand his khal's difficult position but he could let his friend tell him about it and offer advice as best as he could. _

_"I'm sure he will be fine, how much more attention could he possibly attract? The khalasar will get used to his antics. Just relax, Khal Drogo, he is bonding now with the other children in the forest exercise." said Cohollo as Drogo's lips pulled into his trademark smirk, feeling relief in the fact that his son would just normally do the training exercise._

_"Ah yes. I remember the exercise. _'When a Dothraki feels thirst, it is the thirst for blood. When he feels cold, it is the cold edge of steel. However, the courage of a Dothraki is tempered. He neither fears death nor does he rush foolishly to meet it. To be a Dothraki warrior, you must have cunning and balance as well as speed and strength. The first of those who enter the forest and circle it with an unbroken egg in your mouth earns the right to fight as a Dothraki' " _finished Khal Drogo, a nostalgic look in his eye as he thought of the first of many challenges that Drogo conquered in his life that distinguished him even more so than being the son of Khal Bharbo, a respected warlord in his own right._

_"You quoted your father perfectly. I remember when you had to do that exercise, you finished it in the fastest time while taking out some of the other boys. I was told to look after you but I should've been assigned to the other children because you dominated them" said Cohollo as he smiled at the memory._

_"Yes but you still saved my life all those years ago and I am still in your debt but let's see how my son will fare." said Drogo._

_In the Forest_

_There were about 20 Dothraki boys from the ages of 10 to 17 running through the forest with eggs held inside of their mouths as they try to outrun each other, while the others are simply trying to fight the others to break their eggs and take them out of the running. Among them was a fast runner outpacing the other kids, he looked around 7 or 8, obviously the youngest of the group, with a developing figure though he was still muscular for his age, he has smooth, flawless olive skin like honey with silky-soft long, thick, darkened brown almost black, wavy to the point of slight curling, and flowing hair (the color is like Khal Drogo's in the show) which is tied in a ponytail reaching to the top of his spine and his sides squared off, thick but elegant black eyebrows, striking aquamarine deep set eyes peering from under heavy, thick, long, seemingly feminine black slightly curled eyelashes, thickened black eyebrows, a perfectly-proportioned, refined angular face with high cheekbones, and straight nose with sensual pouty pink lips though it seemed he was making space in his mouth for the egg. He was an extremely beautiful boy. He only wore leather pants, allowing his chest to be bare. He began kicking off of trees and swinging on branches, basically making the territory his playground as the other kids looked on and tried using rocks to knock him down though they often missed._

_Conan struggled not to laugh at their attempts. He knew he could simply run the course but that wouldn't teach him anything. He had to try and make it more challenging so taunting them to get them to focus their efforts on him would do that even if the attempts were rather futile. He dropped to the ground and used the momentum to grab one of the boys who were running close by, by the back of his head and pushing his face down into the ground, not only dazing him but cracking his egg which he spit out. He then slowed down his pace to bait 3 of the other boys into running after him who were all solely focused on offing him, but suddenly Conan jumped and the three ran into a large log, which hit them in the stomachs, knocking the wind out of them which also ended up with the eggs cracking as they flew out of their mouths. Conan crouched behind the log and listened to the running of more footsteps. Just as he heard it get close enough, he sprung up and went for an uppercut which knocked the jumping boy out of the air and also cracked the egg in his mouth since it hit his jaw but he spit it out before he could choke on it as he fell into the ground. _

_Meanwhile, the four blood riders of Khal Ogo had finally tracked down the khalasar of Khal Drogo. When they were defeated 6 years ago, they fled before they could join the khalasar and vowed to themselves to get revenge. They saw the children and decided to start with them first. They darted around the trees just out of sight of the children and began to stalk their prey._

_Conan and the boys all heard the rustling and crushing of leaves which were tell-tale signs of being followed, many of the boys spit out their eggs and ran back to camp. Some of the others kept running but looked around frantically, hoping they could outrun whoever was following them. However, once they caught a glimpse of the men and the ponytails just past their shoulder blades, all of the boys turned tail and ran to regroup at the camp. _

_Well...all except Conan who ran straight to meet the four, feeling the thirst for blood and his spirit calling for battle despite all of the kids trying to warn him. He ran into a clearing where they seemed to lie in wait before one of them used a whip to wrap around his legs, causing him to fall down on his face. He then looked up with his eyes set into a piercing glare that seemed to shake the hardened warriors to their core at the sheer immense hunger for battle and killing intent radiating from those blue-green orbs but they reluctantly continued on. The one holding the whip slackened his grip in his fear then suddenly felt the surprising power of Conan's legs as he reeled in the man by yanking his legs inward then he slammed his feet into the ground and used the momentum to toss his body from off of the ground, standing on his feet before ramming his head into the incoming blood rider's head, knocking him out with blood trailing out of his mouth. He then unwrapped the whip from his legs then had to duck a swing from one of the rider's arakhs, showcasing his nimbleness and dexterity as he evaded the frenzied swings then picked up the fallen rider's dropped knife, which flew from its sheath as a result of the force from the headbutt, and stabbed it into the other's inner thigh before kicking it in deeper and then roundhouse kicking the side of the man's face, causing his neck to whip back so fast, it ended with a snapping noise resounding as the rider fell, dead. _

_He then charged at another one but a second tried to flank him as he was running with his battle axe but Conan dropped into a roll and rolled through the opening in the man's legs as he neared the flanking location before coming out in a crouch beside a rock which he picked up as he whacked the other, who suspected his comrade to have gotten rid of Conan with the flank, with the stone but it only drew blood from his mouth as he swung his fist at Conan as he dropped to the ground and stabbed his own knife through the man's foot into the ground to plant it there which elicited a blood curling scream from him. The other man who's flank was evaded attempted to cut Conan from behind but he ripped the knife from the foot and stabbed into his chest after spotting an opening in his stance in between his raising the blade and swinging it. As the man fell over trying anything to keep from dying of the stab wound, Conan performed a disarming maneuver to gain the arakh and spun around on his heel then put his whole body weight into a swing that cut a gash through the man's chest with the stabbed foot and swollen face due to the rock, killing him. _

_Conan then picked up the fallen battle axe, slowly walking over to the one man suffering from the stab wound as he groaned in agony before bringing down the axe on his head with a battle cry which was heard throughout the forest along with the screams of pain._

* * *

_"Khal Drogo! You must come see this!" said Irri, one of the Dothrak as Drogo looked at Cohollo and they both followed him away from the throne tent and watched as all of the khalasar gathered round to watch something coming from the forest. _

_Khal Drogo parted the crowd until he got to the center where he saw the opposite side of the crowd parting as something, or someone, moved through it towards him. There was much whispering and murmuring; filling the camp with hushed noise but an uncomfortable silence. Suddenly Conan emerged from the crowd, his face and torso bloodied, hair tousled and wild, his lips pursed as his eyes were set in the most piercing, unnerving gaze anyone could have seen from a child but what was more unnerving were the two severed heads he held in each hand, dropping all four on the ground in front of his father without breaking eye contact with him. Some of the slaves and his friends among the Dothraki boys started smirking at Conan's apparent accomplishment as some of the girls his age blushed at how rugged he looked, covered in blood and his muscles tense. Then as if the heads weren't enough, he opened up his pursed lips and spit out the egg on the ground which cracked the top but otherwise it looked unharmed, signifying he had done it with an unbroken egg. _

_Khal Drogo couldn't help but smirk proudly at his son as the other warriors looked very impressed with the boy, even Jorah found the sight a little more than amazing. Cohollo chuckled at the irony of his statement beforehand, thinking it was foolish of him to think things would change so suddenly and to not expect something like this from the son of the youngest and one of the strongest khals of one of the largest khalasars ever seen. _

_"MY SON IS STRONG!" exclaimed Khal Drogo in a boastful voice as he picked the boy up and placed him on his shoulders. The khalasar then began to roar with praise for Conan but some of the adult slaves were extremely terrified that the boy who was so kind to them and helped could do such things with so much ease. _

_4 days later_

_Conan currently had just finished training in the water, which he noted helped him shrug off more resistance when on land so he taught himself how to swim and began doing light weight and weaponry training in the water. However, now he just laid on his back in the water and floated as his eyelids fluttered before closing them with his arakh laying on his chest and other weapons strapped where they were. His thoughts went to his place in the Dothraki and how he felt so out of place. Sure, he was praised for showing promise as a warrior but he felt himself questioning much of their ways and felt caged despite constantly migrating from place to place. He wanted to be free and the _"poison water" _he was told to stay away from apparently held the key to his freedom, if what Jorah told him about the continent of Westeros and the Free Cities were true. _

_"Conan! Get out of the water, a storm is coming!" yelled Jorah who helped Conan along in his swimming lessons as well as taught him the mechanics to sailing and navigating. Despite his warning, Conan seemed to ignore the man and continued trying to nap as the winds grew stronger and the clouds darker and thicker. _

_"Hm...maybe I shoul-WHHOOOOOAAAA!" Suddenly the water picked up as the winds blew powerfully, causing the waves to pull and push violently then after it calmed momentarily, Jorah could not find Conan anywhere._

_Several Days Later_

_Conan had been tossed and swept by the ocean for days, enduring days without food or rest before he finally found a dock in the distance. It seemed to be a dock to a massive, boisterous town that seemed to have a lot of hustle and bustle to it. Conan was unaccustomed to such an environment and he was looking for a place to stay and eat until he could find his way home. He saw a swaggering older man with curly black hair though many of his curls were tinted white or gray as he gripped a really thin sword, which he thinks he heard Jorah call a rapier when he learned there were different styles of swords, and a goatee. He went to point the rapier at Conan but Conan reacted immediately by brandishing his arakh. The unexpectedly good reflexes of the boy seemed to be make the man smirk slightly._

_"My name is Syrio Forel, the First Sword of Braavos! And you are?" asked Syrio with a heavy Braavosi accent. Conan realized it was Common Tongue and thanked himself he asked Jorah to teach him. According to Jorah, typically people outside of the Dothraki have surnames. He remembered his father and Jorah telling him of the surname given to him by his people. Conan then narrowed his aquamarine gaze toward Syrio's dark brown eyes and spoke with confidence that belonged to a general or king._

_"My name is Conan Battleborn..."_

Chapter End!

I hope my fellow GoT fans enjoy. Conan's adventures are about to get interesting as the first Dothraki to literally go down the Narrow Sea and end up so far from Essos. The name was inspired by my one of my favorite characters, Khal Drogo's actor's past roles. I thought it sounded just Dothraki enough to be a good name, the other option would've been to name him after the great khal with a khalasar reaching into the tens of thousands, Temmo.


	2. A Horse Lost in the Big City

**A/N: Second chapter up! Enjoy!**

"Conan….Battleborn?" asked Syrio. "Well, I must say that is quite an unusual name. Judging from it as well as your attire and equipment, you must be a Dothraki but I just cannot bring myself to believe a member of such an infamous tribe would not only be so far from the Dothraki Sea and Essos as a whole, but would know the Common Tongue. Perhaps you are a Dornishman that happened to come upon Dothraki attire?" The First Sword stated as he eyed the boy, slightly alarmed at the piercing gaze filled with intense murderous intent the boy set on him as if he were telling him to watch what he did.

Syrio knew he could take the boy down, but not as easily as he would think any other boy that age. There was just something in the way the boy moved and held the blade that made him think that there was more to this boy that meets the eye. Syrio smiled warmly as he suddenly lunged forward and struck with the tip of his blade which Conan parried with the flat of his blade, showcasing his accuracy again with being able to catch the sight of such movement and maneuver a not-so wide blade to block. However Syrio then slid his blade horizontally until the tip eventually ran out of metal to drag along since the blade curved like a scythe, which is what Syrio counted on to strike at the opening he thought Conan left unguarded.

Conan smirked and just as the tip was about to meet the end of the metal, he directed the hilt of the blade upward diagonally, directing Syrio's blade along the stroke of the curve before allowing it to swing around the thin blade like a dangling hook as he dropped to the ground then darted at Syrio, grabbing the hilt as it swung down in its cycling motion around Syrio's blade and pulled so that the inner curve of the arakh weighed down on the blade, causing the length of Syrio's blade to rest on Conan's shoulder while he tried to swing his blade down onto Syrio's but Syrio maneuvered his fingers on his rapier and lifted it from the shoulder to thrusting the tip into the curve just behind the tip of the arakh and pushed it up a head above his shoulder, giving him time to nimbly spin around Conan's sword arm. He then grabbed the arm with his free hand and put his foot on the elbow, bending it slightly as a threat to break it as his rapier rested its tip on Conan's growing Adam's apple.

"Dead…" Syrio said simply with an excited grin. Conan was floored by the man's movements, he hadn't seen such beautiful, yet deadly swordplay. It mesmerized him, now referring to it as an intricate dance of battle in his head. Conan felt his love of swordsmanship call for him to follow this man. "I actually could have disarmed you much earlier but I wanted to see how well you can fight, if the feeling I got from you was just a trick or not. I must say you pleasantly surprised me. Your physical strength is admirable, especially for your age but you don't use your sword as a club or war hammer as children or some adults do. You also incorporate speed, creativity, clever use of your sword's anatomy, nice footwork and I could tell you worked to try and not waste your movements though you have a ways to go before mastering it. With the right guidance, enough time and drive to do so, you will become a master swordsman among master swordsmen." Syrio was excited that he had found one so young with such potential but he wondered if the boy was of sound mind and heart.

"Syrio Forel, was it? I've never seen such swordplay before…I want to be able to fight like that. I want to surpass you and other swordsmen!" exclaimed Conan as his vivid aquamarine eyes were filled with inspiring conviction and immense willpower. Syrio smiled even wider then began to chuckle as he released Conan and allowed him to stand.

"So h-Ugh!" Conan was interrupted as Syrio chopped a certain point in his neck and caught the boy's body.

The Next Day

Conan kept tossing and turning on the most comfortable animal skin he had ever slept on. He slowly opened his eyes and sat up, then realized he was too high off the ground and that he wasn't in his usual tent.

"So it wasn't a dream. But what is this thing?" he asked as he examined a rectangular fluffy material which felt heavenly when you let you body sink into it as well as very extravagant looking, soft sheets that covered his body and kept it warm. He then looked where his head rested and saw two mini versions of the rectangular, fluffy material but more limp and fluffier. He slowly swung his feet from under the covers and rested them on the cold hardwood floors as he looked around at the walls made of stone.

"Jorah was right…they do make huts out of stone" said Conan as he heard Syrio's voice though he was speaking a different language and to what sounded like a female voice. Syrio entered a room accompanied by a not particularly pretty woman with a slender frame, dark hair with a cloak concealing anything else.

"Ah, Conan you've awoken. Meet Jaqen H'ghar, he will assist me as I train you in swordplay as well as to be observant, perceptive, quick, stealthy, and to use all of your senses to spot deception" said Syrio as the woman nodded and smiled warmly at Conan.

"My, aren't you pretty? Hello child, I am Jaqen and I will also be teaching you High Valyrian and Ghiscari. I and people like me do not typically teach children, however, Syrio is quite an old friend of mine and I owe him a favor. He also tells me you are quite the exceptional young lad, so I hope you don't let him down. It's not every day someone gets such praise from the First Sword of Braavos" said Jaqen. Conan simply beamed at the nice "woman".

'Wait….Syrio said "he". Is Jaqen a man?!' thought Conan and just as he was about to voice his question, Jaqen smirked and looked to Syrio.

"Huh…well at least we know his hearing works, old friend. I can be he or a she, though Syrio has known me before I became 'no one" when I was still just a man" said Jaqen as he discarded his cloak, revealing reddish looking cloth armor and the cloak fluttered as it obscured Conan's view of Jaqen's face, by the time it was brought down, which was no more than a couple of seconds, his face suddenly resembled a man's **(A/N: the way he first appeared to Arya in the GoT TV series)**

" 'No one'? What does that mean?" asked Conan, not understanding the Faceless Man.

"All in due time, boy. But we should inform you that no one else aside from the Sealord and his wife that you are a Dothraki. You must keep that a secret from anyone in Braavos" said Syrio with a serious look on his face which was new to Conan as the boy had only seen the playful smirk he donned most of the time. Conan simply nodded his head as Syrio smiled in response.

The whole morning was spent explaining to Conan about the Valyrian Freehold, their scuffles with Old Ghis, the founding and beliefs of the Faceless Men and their purpose over breakfast which was prepared by the cooks of the Sealord of Braavos.

Afterwards, Syrio began sparring with Conan, showing and explaining the technique of the Braavosi Water Dance. Conan was too familiar with the Dothraki style which at least had swiftness and suppleness of motion in common with the Water Dance but none of the subtlety, precision, stealth, perception, fancy footwork or control. He was made to spend the rest of the midday standing on his toes at the top of long stone staircases with the words, "A Water Dancer can stand on one toe for hours. If you fall, every hurt is a lesson and every lesson makes you better" as well as chasing cats which reminded him of his youth when he would run and fight with young colts, lion cubs, panthers and tigers even up to a few hours yesterday, he continued to do so with fully grown dangerous beasts. However, "the common cat is as quiet as shadows and light as a feather" or Syrio says, and one must be quick to catch them. That would mean Conan would have to get a handle on his speed, increase his reaction time and awareness which Jaqen assisted with but not only in terms of reading your opponent, in terms of also detecting deception such as disguises or poisons. Other extremely important factors were to not banish fear, but rather to command it as a warrior and to see with his nose, ears and skin. To those ends, he was made to train with blindfolds so that he was familiar with fighting in unfavorable conditions, which is where the fear might come in, and to use all of his senses.

This continued for months, Conan studied snakes as well as cats to serve as inspirations for flexibility, precision, quickness, and subtlety. He also made sure not to rely on only one hand when using the Water Dance, so he would train both hands to become comfortable with the movements and the weight of the blade as he did with his Dothraki training. He learned to use a Westerosi accent as well as a Dothraki accent and Braavosi accent. He also made sure to re-familiarize himself with the style of Dothraki; both infantry and cavalry styles. According to Maester Jorge of the Sealord's castle, Conan's metabolism was extremely fast, especially when compared to normal men even as adults, so he would never get that beefy, bulked up body that his father had but he would have more of a defined, chiseled, lean but just as steely physique when he gets older. This meant he could maintain and increase his ever-growing physical strength, stamina, and endurance while not getting bulked up which would defeat the purpose of creating a smaller target with the Water Dance style, thus allowing him to be a unique Water Dancer among others due to the devastation of his blows coupled with the quickness. He was made to do acrobatic repetitions to become more agile and to be able to fight in several positions. Many warriors were inflexible and stiff, so Conan would have an advantage especially since he was being forced to do so with weights and heavy objects in his possession. Jaqen's training, more or less, stressed knowledge of mathematics and sciences, creative thinking, adaptation, intuition, striking and killing efficiently in terms of both hitting where you want and who exactly you want dead, as well as acting, creating complete bullshit tales with hints of truth in them to fool people temporarily for whatever reason, and the many languages aside from High Valyrian and Ghiscari, such as Trade Talk. He also was taught the different dialects of High Valyrian in order to pass off as a resident of one of the other Free Cities with the bastardized versions. He memorized the names and uses of many types of poison as well as how to recognize them. He was able to make basic disguises well enough but he could never do it on the scale Jaqen and the Faceless Men do which requires losing one's sense of self, something Conan refused to do. He also learned of the many gods worshipped in Braavos, even the ones that don't have any followers any more. He took to many of the war deities but mostly felt extremely drawn to the Old gods for some reason.

Conan had changed his appearance to match his surroundings; wearing a red and dark brown version of what Syrio typically wears along with a black cloak. Conan became Syrio's protégé, more or less, accompanying him at the Sealord's balls and social gatherings, charming and gaining the favor of the many important officials of Braavos and other nations. Jaqen taught him how to navigate matters of talking and dancing in social situations for situations like this, but it seemed Conan had a natural knack for it. Many of the young maidens all waited for their chance to dance with the beautiful boy, including some women who were considerably older than him. He was becoming quite popular in the city, much to Syrio's delight and Jaqen's distaste. Much of it is due to the fact that whenever he sees some injustice, whether it is a man striking a woman who didn't do anything wrong or any rapes, thievery or attempted murders, he goes to help. He treats the servants and lesser born people who weren't as fortunate as Conan to meet someone to take them in as if they were actual respectable people. There were quite a few nobles who disliked Conan's ways and the fact that he wasn't even a noble yet he was being given training by the First Sword of Braavos when any time they asked him to teach their children, he refused once meeting them. They all thought Conan was some brutish savage who was pretending to be as "civilized" as they were. Today, the Sealord asked Conan to accompany Syrio as they entertained the Martells of Dorne and a very special guest, to keep Princess Arianne and other children their age busy.

A large company of men in armor rode through Braavos as the Braavosi all cheered in welcome of the company as it rode towards the Sealord's castle. They were carrying banners of a gold spear piercing a red sun on an orange field, signifying them as the Martells. They rode into the courtyard of the Sealord's Palace, where the Sealord and his family stood, behind them would be Syrio and Conan who are properly groomed to suit the occasion. Conan's long, loosely curled brownish black hair was cut to about neck length. To the Sealord's left was a gruff looking, grey bear of a man dressed in the suit of armor of a Westerosi knight who had two children beside him; one was a boy who looked 15 or 16 than him with long silver-blonde hair which was grown a little longer than neck length with a top knot, eyes a dark lilac shade of purple full of joy and excitement, fair skin and a gaunt face which was strange for a boy his age. He was dressed in the finest linens and was rather scrawny, signifying he had never done any intensive martial training. Next to him was a girl around his age who already looked beautiful, she had flawless, soft looking, supple pale skin with a natural blush in her high cheekbones, her eyelashes were long and black which clashed pleasantly with her skin, underneath were her eyes of amethyst, full pink lips and her platinum-silver hair which went down to her back, her body was rather lithe and slender but still growing. She was going to be even more beautiful when she was older, that anyone could tell by looking. She was dressed in fine linens as what appeared to be her brother along with lavish, exotic jewelry.

"Those are the Targaryens. They are the last of their family and of the blood of dragons. We are helping to mediate a marriage contract with Prince Viserys to the Princess Arianne in order to grant them Dorne's support to retake the Iron Throne" said Syrio. Conan felt somehow relieved that the contract wasn't for the girl.

Conan tore his eyes from the pretty girl to watch as the famous "Red Viper", Oberyn Martell dismounted his black stallion whose tail was the color of fire. He was in his early 20's and had the classic Dornish look with a lined face, with thin eyebrows, dark and lustrous hair, olive skin, a sharp nose and black "Viper" eyes. He wore a shirt armored with overlapping discs of bright copper with a pale red silk cloak over it and brown leather pants tucked into black boots. Under his arm was a helm adorned with a copper sun. Following him was a young looking, handsome squire of maybe 16, with a strong jaw, sky blue eyes and light sandy brown hair with a close cropped beard. Beside Oberyn was a short, pudgy, not particularly pretty girl who looked a little younger than Viserys with large dark eyes and long, thick black hair that fell in ringlets past her shoulders as well as olive skin. She had an air of adventure and trouble-making that he appreciated. Following her was another fair skinned pretty girl with hair that looked as if it were spun from gold, deep blue eyes and this almost unnatural sweet, innocent disposition. She looked dainty and angelic, almost the exact opposite of the dark haired girl.

"Ah, Lord Oberyn! You've grown so much since I last saw you, my boy!" said the Sealord as he hugged the Red Viper as if they were friends. Conan's training in perception, intuition and the reading of body language kicked in as he saw this twitch in Oberyn's body which he recognized as restraint but the gleam in his snake-like eyes looked like lust.

'No….he couldn't be-...could he? I heard that Dornishmen valued freedom in all aspects of life, but I had no idea that included sex…huh, this could be useful' thought Conan as he stored the information away in his brain as possible blackmail if he needed anything. Jaqen, who had disguised himself as one of the servants, smiled to himself as he watched Conan.

'The boy is learning….good. If he didn't believe so fiercely in honor, had been born a Westerosi or Braavosi noble and didn't love direct assault so much, he might've made either a great assassin or a politically savvy Lord' thought Jaqen a little disappointed that the potential wouldn't go to breeding another Faceless Man.

"Come, old friend. Let us discuss these matters over the food prepared by the fine Braavosi chefs" said Oberyn, as he allowed the Sealord and his family to lead the way while all the staff and servants rushed to their stations. Syrio and Conan had to walk around the royal families, so Syrio was at the front while Conan took the back.

_Daenerys P.O.V._

I stood tall and tried to look as professional and lady-like as possible; for a 6 year old anyway. I was nervous to be meeting so many nobles who could decide whether or not my brother would have support to retake the Iron Throne. I didn't remember Westeros at all, so I didn't care to go but I would NEVER tell my brother that. He was kind much of the time, but he could be extremely cruel when on the subject of the Usurper or how he wasn't sitting on the Iron Throne.

I was walking behind my brother and Ser Willem, our caretaker, when I spotted a beautiful boy who looked around my age with a beautiful olive skin and complexion that reminded me of honey with luxurious and refined loosely curled, wavy darkened brown hair that was cut to about neck length, framing his face and making him look more comely and prince-like than Viserys and the Sealord's own children in all the glory of their expensive material. His deep set eyes were a bright blue-green color that I lost myself in and reminded me of the beautiful seas of Essos and just as exotic with his heavy, thick, long, curled black eyelashes. He also had thick, elegant black eyebrows over them. His face was in perfect proportion; being long and angular with remarkably high cheekbones and a straight nose. I knew I was blushing hard by the time I saw his full pink lips. I never really thought too much about boys; before Viserys was arranged to marry the Dornish princess, I figured I would marry him so I never gave my first kiss any thought but now I am hoping to get it. Everything about him seemed warm; I wanted to stand beside him but I couldn't break character any more than I already did. Though I continued to appreciate the view from afar. Despite his young age, he was putting on more muscle than my brother who was well into his teen years. He stayed behind the group of nobles, acting as if he were one of the guards. I didn't know why but there was just this intoxicating presence of adventure, daring and mischief that came from him which is why I went over to him when the opportunity presented itself.

"Who are you?" I asked, violet eyes gleaming with innocence and curiosity.

Regular P.O.V.

Conan was surprised that such a highborn girl even considered talking to someone who wasn't noble.

"Its common courtesy when asking for someone's name that you give your name first, princess" said Conan in a slightly sarcastic, but wise-cracking manner. He wanted to test the girl's reaction and he had to admit it was extremely cute when she crossed her arms and pouted in an annoyed way.

"Your response tells me you're just ALL about courtesy. Haha my name is Daenerys of House Targaryen. And you are?" she said, half glaring at him but she resisted the urge to smirk at being talked to in such a way and for responding as sarcastically as she did.

"Not a noble, so you wouldn't want to know. I am just a warrior in training who happens to be guarding your family and the other nobles here" said Conan, not wanting to tell the girl who he was only for her to be disappointed and leave.

This attitude surprised Daenerys. No one had ever been so disrespectful to her, especially one she suspected to be a noble. But what was more surprising is the fact that he spoke to her that way while claiming he wasn't highborn. She hadn't ever met anyone else her age, so she was eager to make friends and doggone it, she would make a friend out of this jerk!

"I don't care how you were born. I just want to know your name, I thought we could…maybe…." Daenerys trailed off, looking at the floor with a heavy blush on her cheeks as she struggled to say it. Normally, she was a timid, docile girl but something about the boy was instilling this confidence in her.

"Could what?" asked Conan, his voice now a little more friendly and warm with a hint of curiosity. He felt a little bad at the results his close-minded attitude was producing so he decided to try a warmer approach, which gave Daenerys the confidence to finish.

"Could, maybe, be friends? I've never met anyone outside of my family close to my age and I was wondering if we could be friends…" said the Targaryen Princess as Conan looked on in slight shock. He had done what the Dothraki boys did when he was still khalakka and judged her because she happened to be noble.

He took her hand suddenly, which caused her to yelp but she was immediately silenced as she felt his soft, warm lips press up against the back of her hand which made her face resemble a tomato. The contact set her body ablaze with the sheer heat of his body and the great warmth that welled up in her body simultaneously. He slowly raised his head and looked at her with an apologetic expression in his eyes that made her want to hug him until he looked happy again.

"Excuse me, "Lady". I was being a judgmental prat for some reason, possibly because of the prat standing before me. My name is Conan" said Conan as he was told that "Battleborn" was more of a title than a surname with a slight smirk.

"Conan? That's it?" asked Dany.

"Well, how many names do I need?" asked Conan, the sarcastic flair coming back to his expression as he dodged a swat from Dany's hand with a laugh. "Oi! What sort of lady beats a defenseless low born boy?!" he questioned with a cheeky smirk as she continued her assault with a melodic laughter that Conan found himself liking to hear.

Sir Willem, who had looked back to investigate the soft yelp, saw his ward, Daenerys conversing and laughing with the apprentice of the First Sword of Braavos. Syrio had been bragging about him a couple months ago and when he saw the boy take down a common man who had tried forcing himself on a baker's daughter, he saw why. The boy reminded him very much of Rhaegar; both were exceptionally handsome; both had great senses of justice and talent for the martial arts and if what Syrio said was true, his mind was just as sharp as his sword. They also both liked to invest in several other skills besides the one they fancied, excelling at almost anything they put their mind to. One defining personality difference would be Rhaegar's love of the song of harps while Conan's was for the song of swords. He was happy that Daenerys found a friend in such a boy. The Targaryen loyalist promised to himself to make one more good use out of his former title of "master-at-arms" to train the boy, as it didn't seem as if Viserys would want to take up a sword and shield any time soon. He sat down and made sure to sit down at places at the table where Daenerys would have an extra seat beside her.

Dany simply giggled as she continued to swat at Conan as they began to talk. She told him about her family and how her brother was looking for supporters to supply him with the materials needed to eventually take back his throne. She told him of her family's long history dating back to Old Valyria and their relationship with dragons. She even confided in him the truth of her feelings about Viserys' plans and how she believed they were unrealistic and did not care for them.

They talked all throughout the lunch prepared, tuning out the professional negotiations being made around them. Viserys noticed his sister smiling brighter and happier than he'd ever seen her with that boy that Ser Willem said something about being a sort of apprentice.

"It seems your sister's quite taken with the boy, eh, my prince?" asked Ser Willem, smiling kindly at the two youngest occupants of the room. Viserys wanted to go over there and enjoy himself as they were but he had to stay focused on the meeting. He couldn't help but feel a little jealous of his sister and the boy.

Conan has had many friends in the past with the slaves and servants he met who were in his service, but Daenerys was different. He felt like because Dany knew what it was like to be noble and not want the same things as everyone else around you, they had a closer bond even if that bond was only established a couple hours ago. He confided in her his true identity and his origins, which he yearned to tell her for some reason, attributing it to being natural friends as he hadn't felt such a need to trust someone before.

"Wow! So you are technically noble then, aren't you?" asked Dany, which sort of surprised Conan as he hadn't thought of it in that way. He supposed being the prince of a khalasar 40,000 strong meant something noble, right?

"Haha, I guess. I never thought of it like that" said Conan as he smiled brightly towards her, flashing his incisor, straight white teeth. Dany fought down a blush as she continued talking about him.

"So being a Dothraki means you must be really good at horseback riding, right?" she asked, remembering Ser Willem tell her some tales of Dothraki whenever she would ask for scary stories.

"Mhmm. Dothraki boys typically learn when they are 4 years old to shoot arrows from horseback. After that, riding pretty much becomes second nature, especially since I learned it a year earlier" said Conan, obviously bragging at his accomplishment if the cocky grin wasn't indication enough and Dany rolled her eyes.

"Whatever, horse boy, can you go riding with me tomorrow?" she asked with a smirk but her eyes conveyed her plead for him to say yes.

"I don't know, I feel a little self conscious about horses now," said Conan with a playful smirk as he folded his arms and looked away. Dany then demonstrated the first ever recorded use of the puppy dog pout against Conan. He heard a strange silence so Conan became curious and looked over at her and he, who was unaccustomed to such a technique, was caught off guard.

"Uhhhh-I-I…but…...fine…" said Conan as he facepalmed, ashamed of himself as he contemplated cutting his hair again for this "loss". Dany simply giggled into her hand then flashed Conan a victorious grin, which he responded to with a smirk. He then explained to her how he knew the Common Tongue and how he got to Braavos from the Dothraki Sea.

"That's amazing! It's a miracle you didn't die at sea!" said Dany as she looked at the boy, her eyes widened in shock.

Conan nodded as he remembered the unpleasant trip down the Narrow Sea. He felt eyes on him but he decided to ignore them and focus on Dany, deducing it as someone thinking they were rude for carrying their own conversation during a meeting.

_Arianne P.O.V._

I had to admit I am jealous of a 6 year old girl. I am the eldest child and heir to the throne of Dorne! I am 10 years old and I already have men such as Ser Daemon Sand lusting after me. I should be content especially since I am marrying a Targaryen Prince who I've got to admit is rather attractive. But damn, the boy is handsome! Its as if he was plucked from one of the songs they sing of handsome knights rescuing damsels in distress. Tyene hasn't stopped talking about him since we saw him but he hasn't left the side of that Targaryen girl.

The old men finally finished their meeting, so now I have a chance to go introduce myself!

Regular P.O.V.

Oberyn and Ser Willem shook hands as they agreed to the marriage contract between Prince Viserys Targaryen and Princess Arianne Martell. The Sealord simply smiled as he became witness to the contract between the two houses who both wanted to take the Iron Throne from King Robert.

Conan and Dany stood and hugged as the meeting ended. Dany smiled coyly as she brought up her previous win.

"So don't forget to go riding with me tomorrow after you've finished training, okay?" she said, a hint of bossiness in her voice.

"Don't tell me what to do, lizard" said Conan, his natural defiant nature becoming evident. Dany couldn't help but smile at the insult to her family's beloved companions.

"You said you would! What happened to keeping your word?" taunted Dany as Conan immediately regretted saying anything about his code of honor and sense of justice.

"Witch…" mumbled Conan with a glare as Dany simply laughed and waved as she walked to Ser Willem.

"See you tomorrow, horse boy!" she said as Conan fought back a smirk.

"Now I know 'horse boy' can't actually be your name" started a voice that sounded very sultry and exotic as Conan turned around and saw the pudgy girl from before. Princess Arianne Martell, the heiress of Dorne and fiancé to Prince Viserys Targaryen.

"No, my lady, my name is Conan Battleborn" said Conan, not feeling comfortable without some semblance of a surname when in this environment and he didn't want to seem strange to the girl, for some reason.

"Battleborn? I've never heard of a name like that before. Did you exit the womb ready for battle or did you just think that would sound good whenever you introduced yourself?" asked Arianne, who was starting to get cheeky but it was cute how the boy made up such a name for himself.

"Armor, sword and all. So is everyone in Dorne this ignorant or are you a special case?" asked Conan, his tone dripping with blatant disrespect which elicited a chuckle from the princess.

"You're a little witty for one so young. Are you actually common born?" asked Arianne, a little curious how one who looks and talks the way he does is born so lowly.

"Will that be a problem?" asked Conan

"No... I just really wanted to introduce myself to you," she said, looking at him intently, hoping her familiar approach wouldn't put him off any more than it did but she really wanted to become close with him.

"Why? I haven't done anything special," said Conan

"Let's just say I have a weakness for handsome men…especially the ones with an air of adventure and mischief," said Arianne with a smile. Conan wasn't as shocked as he should be of a girl at least 3 years older than him finding him attractive, but still shocked.

He began escorting her to her room as they talked much of the way; talking about each other and what they wanted to do in life. They found they both love adventure and excitement and don't exactly want to stay in one place but they had things they needed to do first. Conan found once you got used to her, Arianne was quite the girl and he enjoyed becoming friends with her by the time they got to her door.

"Well Conan, I'll see you tomorrow and you can show me around Braavos," said Arianne before smiling at Conan's nod in response and hugging him before she walked inside her room. The boy held wit and looks rare for even men much older than him, so it was obvious she was a little excited at spending time with him but she didn't think it would get past friendship. She was a fiance anyway and she didn't know how her betrothed would like her pining after a 6 year old's affections.

Chapter End!

Tell me what you think, please! Until next time!


	3. Trials of Friendship

**A/N: Third Chapter here we go!**

Conan had awoken early in the morning to begin his ridiculously intense and rigorous training schedule. He started off with lifting small carts filled up with thick, heavy objects and repeated the exercise while squatting. After a considerable amount of time of doing the same exercise, he began to walk with it while lifting it in order to get used to large amounts of weight while simultaneously focusing on walking or any other task. He found that doing such strenuous activity while doing multiple other things helped train his focus which would be extremely useful in battle and pretty much anything else.

He then began running laps around Braavos while maneuvering his body low and high as if doing motion squats which helped him gain more freedom of movement even when doing originally impeding tasks and control over his body. He then repeated the whole process with heavy armor on, then again with a wagon tied to him, then again with both armor and the wagon. The Braavosi had all gotten used to watching Conan's strange training routines and had come to enjoy them as sources of entertainment. To better help with such training, the blacksmiths forged what they called dumb bells which were refined disks of thick metal attached to a metal pipe in varying sizes and weight to train more efficiently as well as began using lead and other heavy materials such as canvas in training clothes, all at Conan's request. He had worked up the ideas when using his usual unconventional methods so he made sure to write them down and to pitch them to the blacksmith. It was rather revolutionary but only Conan used it strangely enough. Before Conan, physical strength wasn't exactly trained beyond being able to sling around melee weaponry in armor proficiently. Any distinctive feats of strength were typically due to men or women who possessed exceptional size and as such chose to wield the massive great sword which when combined with the armor training resulted in extremely strong warriors, such as Ser Gregor Clegane, the legendary Westerosi knight also known as "The Mountain" and his younger brother who was not as physically abnormal but still exceptional in his own right. In conjunction with the weighted clothing, Syrio had him tie mini boulders to his limbs (ones that would be beneficial for one of his size) for whatever reason, probably because the bastard loved to see his protégé struggling. Conan didn't want to neglect his physical strength as he trained for precision, speed and stealth but Syrio seemed to be too zealous about assisting him. Imagine all that weight and much of the precision, accuracy, control and speed in which the Water Dance is done, so you couldn't blame if Conan began referring to training as torture because of all the repetitions, having to hold certain stances and positions of the blade for hours on end and having to chase swift animals like cats. The last had a bonus of helping his senses sharpen as he had to hear more clearly, see farther and pick up certain speeds or really easily overlooked sights, pick up faint scents, and taste substances that would not be noticed by the normal tongue (mostly as a result of poison recognition training in which he had to encounter poisons that typically are used in food or drink). He also kept his armor and training clothes underneath most of the day, not as a way to protect himself in a possible fight but to get used to the weight and incorporate being used to such weight in everything he does from eating to riding to carrying mundane items or people. He was made to run laps with people of all shapes and sizes on his back with other items in their possession which would more often than not be heavy.

Conan didn't really mind because any time he felt the weight become excruciating, he thought of how great of a warrior he would become that would be able to do and enjoy battle unlike any other before him and that gave him the strength to carry on because what he wanted was to become the greatest warrior. He did not know why he loved battle as much as he did, it made no sense really. He was extremely kind and generous, offering the poor most, if not all, of the money he earned from his occupation as bodyguard as well as helping strangers who struggle in front of him. He also enjoyed moments of tranquility and quiet but mostly when it was either filled with a good read, enjoying nature or playing music which he took to with all of the bards in Braavos. He learned to play a pipe and harp with much fervor as he found music was quite relaxing after all his training. He had a great sense of justice and morality as well as loved freedom, adventure and meeting people. However, he had an unprecedented love of battle and fighting. He did not begin his search for power primarily to protect, though that was something he intended to do as he saw fit. Aside from his sarcasm and rebelliousness, there was nothing that would really suggest a love of violence and even that didn't give much reason for it. He wanted power to fight and dominate his opponents. He did not care about a throne or some social position or money, as long as he could fight while being seen as a genuinely good person who liked to show cheek, rebel when being told not to do something, loved freedom, adventure, eating, drinking and to learn about anything, he was content. He wasn't incontinent, he didn't have an insatiable need to sleep with women though he did find his passion and appreciation for women grow substantially as he grew, he wasn't one for political power nor did he care about material wealth. He simply fought for the sake of fighting whoever agrees to battle and is content. He doesn't even kill, thinking it would be an opportunity for the person to possibly attempt to fight him later in life which might be interesting. While others wanted to live comfortably with a wife, a castle, servants, children and _things_. He just wanted to be able to fight anything that was willing, enjoy good food, drink, people and adventure. His ultimate goal was to die of natural causes, his life unprofaned by combat or poison and prove that he was singularly the greatest warrior known. He also learned from Jaqen to improvise his battle style as was usually done in Dothraki though there were certain techniques that were the same due to the similar conditions. When Jaqen decided to train Conan melee-wise, it was always to keep his mind sharp in order to improvise certain moves or use his surroundings to keep his opponent guessing. He found a friend and mentor in Ser Willem who had come to see him that morning. The former master-at-arms had asked to speak with Conan privately, which his two mentors allowed as a break that Conan appreciated.

"So, young Conan, I hear you are to be accompanying my ward, Daenerys, on a riding session after your training," started Ser Willem as the hulking man smiled in a way that made Conan think of a loving grandfather like the ones he'd seen in the streets of Braavos or in the slave communities of the Dothraki camps when they tried to cheer up their grandchildren about the obviously dreary situation of being captured by the savages.

"That's right, Ser Willem. Dany and I have become good friends and it is only natural for us to want to spend time together. I happen to be rather good with horses which she now knows and so she asked me to ride with her," said Conan, looking up at Ser Willem with a casual smile as if he were talking to another boy despite his formal address of the man. Ser Willem seemed to appreciate that as he smiled wider.

"I hope you understand I cannot just allow _anyone _to spend time with the princess. To the throne and those who seek for the Targaryen line to be restored to their rightful place as rulers of Westeros she might not be as important as Prince Viserys but to me and the young prince, she is equally as important. I need to know what sort of man you are…" said Ser Willem as he suppressed a smirk at seeing Conan grin as if he were accepting a challenge.

"Then go on with the test, my good Ser," said Conan

"Very well, boy, why did you befriend Daenerys?" asked Ser Willem, his face now composed and serious in order to show the boy this was no laughing matter now. He had to keep himself from laughing when he saw the boy's smirk vanish and a puzzled look take its place.

"Well….ummm…" Conan tried to think of something to say.

"She seemed like a nice girl and she was different from other princesses who actually live in secure kingdoms, despite the fact that she is entitled to seven of them. She was the first person to ever ask to be my friend and she opened up immediately by telling me she didn't have any friends her age, which I could relate to so I was just shocked that someone like her was the one asking. I could tell she had a strong heart and mind and I did not want to miss out on a friendship with such an amazing person," said Conan as he was surprised that such a thought came from his mouth along with Ser Willem who didn't quite know how to react to such an articulate response from a boy who wasn't of noble birth but attributed it to his teachers educating him on matters aside from combat. He could also tell with his years of experience that there was clearly much more to Conan's liking than simply her personality.

"Do you seek any sort of high rank or position to come as a result of your friendship in the future?" asked Ser Willem, who thought it made sense that a boy who came from nothing would want to become a high ranking individual, such as the man who is known as "Littlefinger", Petyr Baelish who now sits as the Master of Coin in the King's Council.

"To be honest, I don't give a rat's ass about things like that," said Conan, now getting comfortable enough to let his casual and informal nature break through his formal facade, his tone showed a mix of distaste and disinterest in the prospect which Ser Willem found shocking and strange. The man was also very much amused by the sudden change in attitude but he could tell there was no loss of respect for him personally.

"You don't want to be a Lord with a large plot of land with servants that do as you command, with a noble woman for a wife, and a castle to leave for your legacy?" asked Ser Willem

"With all due respect, you couldn't have thought of anything worse to entice me with. I married myself to Battle long ago and that is what I commit myself to," said Conan as he spoke about battle with such conviction and love that Ser Willem had never heard of anyone speak. It didn't seem like when the bloodthirsty knights who loved the glory and rush of killing, but like he loved the actual fighting.

'_This boy…I can't see any madness or blood thirst in his eye or posture but he also does not care for the typical vices of most men. Haha and he refers to her as Dany, it hasn't even been a day yet he acts as if they were friends since birth, completely disregarding her status, and the princess hasn't stopped talking about him. I must say the warrior spirit in this one is exceptional, but I must make sure' _thought Ser Willem

"If the situation called for it, would you sacrifice yourself for the princess' survival?" asked Ser Willem and he inwardly smirked as he expected a hesitation lacking affirmative, but instead Conan grinned and shook his head. "Excuse me?" he said, not believing his eyes

'_Is he truly a coward? Maybe I was wrong about him…' _he thought with disappointment beginning to fill him that the youth might not be as exceptional as he seemed.

"I don't believe in sacrifice. If Dany is even half the person I know she is, then I know she would never forgive me for doing such a thing. She doesn't want to be felt as if she has to be the price a person pays for their life. I also have my goals to accomplish and I refuse to throw that away if it can be helped, so I will continue fighting so that I can save us both. If I happen to die in the process, then so be it. As long as she still desires to live, I'll do my best to ensure we both do. Not only that, but she would fall into deep depression at losing such an amazing friend to Death," Conan joked as he smirked cheekily in an obviously overly-arrogant fashion as Ser Willem looked at the boy strangely

'_I've never heard of such ideals. It is considered a high honor to sacrifice yourself for your friends especially as a warrior. However, he seems so set on his dreams and the wellbeing of his friends that he refuses to part with either. He also seems to imply that such an act would be taking her free will which is also a strange ideal I've never come across. He is rather wise and he refuses for her to have a decision made for her, which many would disregard despite the best intentions. I must say, he has the will of a King though it seems he does not want any throne. I've never met quite a boy...' _thought Ser Willem as his expression began to unnerve Conan as he thought he might've answered in an undesirable fashion. That was when Willem burst with booming laughter, patting the young boy on the back repeatedly which made Conan's back rather sore due to the metal of his armor.

"HAHAHA! That's quite the philosophy, young man. I must say you have the strongest will I've ever met. Selfish but damn strong AHAHAHAHA" Ser Willem belted out as Conan giggled along with him at the insult/compliment. "It's decided then…" started the former knight, "I will do my part in ensuring you have the strength required to successfully carry out such an ideal if the situation were to arise," he said as he then took over the last hour of the young boy's training session. He trained him in the Knight's Dance the way he trained Prince Rhaegar when he required his services. It was a strange transition for Conan as he usually fought armor-less foes, so he now had to learn the style of Westeros which focused a lot on weaving powerful slashing attacks and strong blocks with quick thrusting attacks to pierce armor while wearing heavy plate armor themselves. The weight of the armor slows the knights down enough so that they can't rely on speed to succeed against unarmored foes, an example being the Dothraki. However, a lightly armed and lightly armored opponent may strike the typical knight many times for little damage while the knight may take a while to pin the faster foe down, but the broad hacking and slashing coupled with the raw weight and sharpness of the sword will make their blows absolutely devastating once they land. When facing against another knight, the best way to do so is to engage in an elaborate series of feints, trying to gradually lure the opposing knight to over-commit his defense to one side, then landing a devastating blow to the other which shows the style is also based on strategy though it does not completely disregard speed as one who is physically and mentally faster will be victorious. It seemed due to Conan's growing comfort with donning armor had helped immensely with his beginning in the way of a Westerosi Knight. The effect it had on his speed was not as great as it usually was anymore.

Conan loved learning about different fighting styles and the elaborate workings behind them. He would be the only person in the world to argue that combat is a science AND art, taking the time to thoroughly study it from the brilliant warriors who became his mentors to the swaggering swordsmen who prowl the streets of Braavos and the rowdy sailors who fill up the taverns; incorporating all he witnesses into his training. Thanks to Ser Willem, Conan also found out of his immense natural talent for proficient weapon usage as he took to a lance, pike, war-hammer, battle axe and mace with no problems, showcasing impressive creativity, ingenuity, and potential for greatness in the future. Conan smiled happily as he ended the session that was managed to focus on the basics with different weapons, fighting styles and getting used to armor even more so than he already did. Ser Willem also gave him books that detailed the adventures of different famous knights that have become wildly popular such as Ser Duncan the Tall which he put in safe keeping in his book collection in his room before he went out to the stables.

Conan kept the weighed clothing and the strap-able weights on his person under his armor which he continued to don as he groomed his new black destrier stallion. He hummed a tune as he relaxed his muscles with the soothing strokes of the brush across the horse's fine hair.

Daenerys walked in on the scene and watched Conan with an affectionate smile, but she shook her head as if trying to rid herself of her thoughts.

_Dany's P.O.V._

He looked so gentle while brushing his majestic, tall, strong-looking steed. I didn't think such a person could pull off such a look while looking so battle-ready, especially a sarcastic six year old boy. I smiled at the thought of our meeting yesterday and how we talked for hours as the best of friends…

"Hehe I hope we can do that again," she said as she walked over to the horses' stables, looking for one to ride.

_Regular P.O.V._

Conan heard the soft footsteps of Dany's sandaled feet and he turned his head to see her looking for a horse to ride. He grinned and then walked over to one of the stables, leading out a white pony that looked compatible for a rider her size. She looked at the beautiful creature with awe and amazement as Conan gently stroked her platinum mane, resembling Dany's own hair which made her feel some sort of bond with the pony.

"I figured you would prefer this to be your steed," said Conan with a smile as he slowly made his way to Dany, removing his armored glove and took her soft, dainty hand into his intensely warm, slightly calloused hand as he put the brush into hers and made her fingers grip the handle as he led her in grooming the pony.

Dany blushed furiously, almost resembling a tomato so to make sure he didn't see her, she stepped in front of him to get closer to the horse but stopped enough so she could feel his armor-covered chest against her back. She could feel Conan's piercing aquamarine eyes looking at her intently as he slowly relinquished control of her hand as Dany got the hang of it herself but he never moved his hand, which Dany appreciated.

In a moment of clear thinking, Conan realized that he would have to bring Dany back to her chambers soon, so he didn't have the luxury of holding this position for much longer.

"Alright, we should get riding..." he said as he reluctantly let go of her and took the brush, tossing it into a bucket of water. He was about to go help Dany mount her horse, but she easily swung her leg over it using the saddle.

She smiled brightly and cockily at him as she began leading the horse to slowly walk forward to get a feel for her steed. Conan smirked as he then swiftly hopped over the horse and mounted it, unsaddled, and began following after Dany, who rolled her eyes at him while suppressing a smirk.

"Show off..." she muttered as he began riding next to her, laughing. They rode through the minimal grassy plain Braavos had as the sun began to set beautifully, causing the surrounding ocean to glisten and the whole riding session felt easygoing and relaxing as they raced each other, told each other about their days, Dany specifically about how Viserys began growing a bit more domineering and abusive towards her to which Conan began to feel his insides call for the Targaryen heir's blood.

"Why don't you tell Willem?" asked Conan, eyes filled with anger as they both dismounted their horses next to a large weirwood with several thick branches with lustrous bushes of leaves hanging off of them, providing shade as they sat against the tree. Dany hugged her knees to her chest as she rested her chin on them, eyes slightly moist as she went over the memories.

"I-I did...and after Viserys was punished, Vi-Viserys found me when we were alone and b-b-beat me up for telling. And I-I don't know if I can keep telling because Ser Willem became sick last year and its possible he could die any moment...," said Dany as tears ran down her cheek, which Conan brushed away with his bare fingers before undoing the straps of his armor and bringing Dany close to him in a firm, comforting hug as his furnace of a body helped to soothe her as she wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed into his chest.

He whispered words of comfort into her ear as he rubbed her back. She slowly pulled away slightly though they remained in each other's arms.

"Haha...I bet you think I'm some cry baby now, huh..." she joked as she sniffled. Conan returned her joking smile with one of his own.

"It wasn't just now that I thought you were a cry baby," said Conan as she swatted at his shoulder with a giggle. They both held each other's gaze for a moment; both getting a little dazed with the sight of the other before Dany felt a rush of confidence and planted her lips onto his in a chaste but warm kiss. Her eyes went from closed to fluttering as she pulled away, realizing how late it was by the position of the sun and how the sky was almost dark.

"By the Seven, I'm almost late! Ser Willem will have my head!" she exclaimed as she rushed away from him and mounted her pony, riding off towards the Sealord's castle. "I'll see you tomorrow, horse boy!" she said as she laughed.

"Tch...women..." said Conan with a smirk.

**Chapter End**


	4. Graduation and New Places

**2 Years Later**

Conan had grown a couple more inches, now standing at 4'9" so he was tall for his age and had put on more muscle in the last couple of years due to the combination of intense training from Ser Willem, Syrio and Jaqen as well as his personal rigorous training regimen with animals, armor, and weights. Unlike most people whose bodies filled out specifically in certain areas more than others, he both personally focused on and was made to focus on balance in all areas.

He had also spent more time with Dany, strengthening their bond and growing closer as friends. He frequently went to speak with her when he wasn't training and they would talk of anything really. She would always ask if Conan thought she would make a good queen and Conan would always answer with how he didn't give a fuck about such things. This side of Conan never failed to make Dany smile as she felt lucky to know she had a friend who absolutely did not care about her status; the good side or the bad, just about her. He did much studying in the Sealord's library about many topics; one of his favorites including about "the prince that was promised" and "Azor Ahai" as well as the men of the Night's Watch as they fought against the terrors of the "Long Night" and the winter. He, wanting to battle in many fights in his life, hoped that such an opportunity to give his martial talents to do the world a service such as taking down the White Walkers, instead of settling for fighting for the petty politics and scheming of Westeros or the many cities in Essos. He would tell Dany of his ambitions to not only become a superior warrior among all other warriors but to also use his power for causes he deems worthy as well as to enjoy battle with powerful foes. Dany felt it was noble and arrogant at the same time, but at no one's expense as he didn't brag unless joking and he never killed except for his first true battle when he was doing the egg test back in Vaes Dothrak which he told Dany about.

He had gone to great lengths to not kill anymore, even when he had gotten into fights with dangerous men in the streets of Braavos or in the taverns. Ser Willem's guidance was extremely valuable as he had managed to progress years ahead of where he would've been without him, which was to be expected of the man who started Rhaegar Targaryen on his spectacular path of martial success. Unfortunately, by the end of the month of Conan and Dany's first kiss, Ser Willem passed away due to his failing health. Eventually, those who took over his estate in Braavos eventually kicked Dany and Viserys out after 6 months, so they began traveling to different Free Cities and staying with powerful allies until they outstayed their welcome. It was hard for Conan to say bye to his friend but he promised to see her again one day. Conan then worked hard to complete his training with Syrio and Jaqen, while maintaining and expanding on the Westerosi training as well as his own for 2 more years. Currently, Conan and Syrio were sparring as usual, this time all holds were barred so this was all out with training swords. Conan decided to beat Syrio at his own game and began implementing his brand of the Water Style, the mix of fluid, subtle and quick motion and devastating power behind them. The constant clashing of weapons caused the sounds of clacks to echo through the training hall as they danced like two streams of water striking relentlessly for dominance. Conan was quickly showing not only the amazing progress he's made with it, but his actual mastery of it being extremely close to Syrio's, who managed to have upper hand solely through experience. Eventually, Syrio managed to slip the tip of his blade in between Conan's hand and the handle, tapping it up into the air before swiping his arm forward and moving his body to follow in its wake, performing a spin before resting both weapons against Conan's neck.

"Dead," said Syrio's heavily accented voice with finality though he smiled with pride after seeing Conan's exceptional prowess at such a young age. "Congratulations, my pupil. You have nothing more to learn from me, you have learned the Water Dance well. In time, you will learn to see truth as I do and will have surpassed me. Once you have done so, you can use the Water Dance to do the spectacular things I know you are meant to do, Conan. I must say, you are one of the rudest, most infuriating people I've ever had the displeasure of socializing with," Syrio started as Conan rolled his eyes which were becoming increasingly misty and a brilliant white smile that could brighten a room with the emotion was on his face, "but you are also one of the most hard-working, disciplined, passionate, intensely driven, focused and strong-willed men I've met and the best pupil I could have asked for," said Syrio as he walked over to a small table with a clothed item on it, which he picked up as he walked over to Conan.

"To celebrate your graduation I got you a gift," Syrio said as he unveiled it to be a Braavosi rapier, though not needle thin. It was wider for the rapier to pack more strength in its strikes and allow for better parries, a circular steel guard with ornate designs on it with cylindrical shaped hilt that had thin silver protrusions from the bottom of the guard that surrounded the hilt and a spherical pommel. He slowly placed it in Conan's steady, waiting hands as bright light bathed the room in its orange glow at that moment causing Conan's olive skin to illuminate radiantly with his thick, perfectly arched black eyebrows over his big, intense, focused eyes became more vivid under his heavy, curled long eyelashes. His mane of darkened brown, very loosely curled hair framed his face perfectly **(A/N: Think of Robb's hair from the show in terms of curliness but with the color I described it as and not the auburn hair people with Tully blood have)** as the light brought out the brown sheen of his hair that you could miss if you didn't look and his very pink-almost red sculpted full lips pulled back in a particularly dazzling smile as he received his gift. Syrio was actually taken aback at such intense, positive emotion that was being brazenly shown off, causing the typically collected boy to truly resemble a beautiful creature of myth or one belonging to the Heavens.

Conan slowly ran his hand along the flat of the blade, lovingly gazing and caressing the intricate work of steel in a way that he'd never seen before. It couldn't be compared to the look of love a man gives his beloved and it wasn't like it was excitement at getting a cool weapon. It was an incredibly important man in his life whom he trusted to guide and protect him giving him a tool to fulfill the same duties. A weapon meant to not only protect him but cut through all that stand in the way of his dreams or to protect those he deems important. It was a special brand of love, all its own.

"…Thank you…Master," said Conan in a rare act of formality which shocked Syrio to no end in a good way as he felt particularly accomplished that he managed to get such a stubborn, rebellious troublemaker to finally show him some respect.

"I will call it Partner. A fitting title for my partner to dance the Dance of Death…to sing the Song of Swords…to help me in my life to accomplish all of my dreams and ambitions," Conan finished as Syrio nodded with approval of the name before he smiled brightly, knowing his student had a knack for dramatics.

"Come here, Girl," he said as he brought Conan in for a hug which Conan happily obliged as he wrapped his arms around the man and hugged him tightly as tears silently flowed from his eyes along the contours of his high cheekbones yet round cheeks which still held the softness of baby fat simply because of his age.

"For the last time, I am not a girl," said Conan as he pulled away just as quickly as he went to hug him and wiped his eyes before looking at him with a stern glare which Syrio responded with his typical sagely smirk.

"Girl-boy-, you are a sword. That is all, remember that" said Syrio but as Conan was about to reply, he felt something off before realizing the problem from years of experiencing it.

"Jaqen, come out and tell me good bye like a normal mentor," said Conan with a half joking smile to which Jaqen responded by coming from out of the shadows, not having been seen until he hit the light.

"I must say, to be able to detect me somewhat now is quite the feat for such a short time. If you continue along this path, you will be able to weed out reality from illusion…." said Jaqen as there was now a small proud smirk which Jaqen originally did not don. His time with Conan had broken through his stoic, emotionless exterior and found some emotion, finding that he longed to feel things as he did now and couldn't feel any more in debt to his student for helping him. He knew Conan was capable of great things, but if anyone had told him a child—a Dothraki child no less, would help him again feel, he would've never given the incredulous idea a second thought. Jaqen's training as an assassin was all geared towards making him feel like nothing, so that he could successfully take on any appearance but Conan's influence allowed him to utilize the other end of the spectrum, using his rediscovered feelings to secure a mindset that he was anything, now recognizing his emotions but not an identity which Jaqen has been grateful for.

"You have graduated from your training of stealth, improvisation, adapting to social practices of your surroundings, blending in with the crowd, free running, climbing, creativity, disguise and subtle violence. I have gifts of my own, for you," said Jaqen as he handed Conan a folded white cloak (similar to Altair's and Ezio's from AC), a Valyrian Steel dagger, a set of throwing knives, and a short sword that could be gripped normally or in reverse with a leather sheath and a strap for the back with mini slots for the knives to be placed.

"I've been told the cloak has been enchanted with very minor magic to grow along with you, can be stretched but will always go back to its owner's current size and it can withstand minor flames and hits. It also has an enchantment to weigh double all of whatever weight he carries on him at the moment because I know how you like to train even when not outright doing so," said Jaqen, struggling internally about what emotion to show in this situation and both Conan and Syrio could tell his awkward fumbling but Conan was too heartfelt to care.

"These are the greatest gifts I could ever ask for," said Conan as he enveloped the taller man in a hug which caused the poor assassin to blank out for a few minutes before awkwardly placing his hands around his star pupil. They remained like that for a couple minutes before Conan began to laugh good heartedly at Jaqen's expense as he pulled away before tears began running down his face again, realizing he was going to be leaving the home he had known for so long.

"Do not cry, young one…" said Jaqen, touched by his student's affection for him and a little uncomfortable as he wasn't used to tears.

"Yes, girl, this isn't good bye. We shall meet again, one day. I know it in my heart," said Syrio with conviction prominent in his whole being as Conan brought his forearm up and wiped the tears from his face as he began to speak with an annoyed tone of voice despite the grin on his face.

"Who the hell is crying? I'm just putting myself in your shoes, knowing I'd have to part with me soon. Very saddening," he said as Syrio and Jaqen bit their tongues to restrain the laughter threatening to erupt from them at the continuously stubborn, arrogant nature of their pupil.

Conan donned the white cloak, fastening the short sword's leather sheath to his back with all of the knives held tightly in their slots. He strapped the Valyrian steel dagger's sheath to his left thigh and placed Partner in its sheath then at his left hip. He walked out of the room, his former teachers following as he quickly entered his room and slung a backpack on his shoulder before sliding the two wooden training swords from before into it, the hilts protruding from the sides that the flap did not cover. Finally, he strapped his Dothraki arakh to his back crossing the short sword as well as placing his quiver full of powerful arrows so that they hung adjacent to the short sword on his back with the curved long bow adjacent to the arakh.

Conan was greeted with a farewell committee consisting of the Sealord and his family, the entire castle staff, many blacksmiths, sailors and warriors, the attendants of House Darry, several people that Conan helped over the years and the famous courtesans. He said his farewells as he took his black stallion by the reins and led him to the boat which he would be taking to a port in Essos. He waved with a bright smile as he sailed away on the fairly large ship. As the people all waved back knowing they were going to miss him, they also knew they would meet again. One other thing lingered in their minds.

'He's going to become great…'

Hours Later on the Boat

Conan sat on the prow of the black-sailed ship known as Black Betha. He had been enjoying the relaxing, salty breeze of the sea as he thought on his future.

"Be sure not to fall off, boy," said a slight man with an ordinary face consisting of brown hair and eyes with a brown beard.

"I'll keep that in mind…" Conan trailed off, giving pause so that the man would give his name.

"It is common courtesy to give your name first when asking one for theirs," the man said with that tone that adults got when they got all condescending as they explained something to a child which served to annoy Conan.

"Well, it is also common courtesy to not act like such a cunt when making a first impression, but you've gone and fucked that up," said Conan, once again proving yet again how in control of his sharp tongue he was.

The man blinked a few times, assessing the boy as not being any more than 10, if not younger but he spoke with the authority, unruliness, wit, and disrespect of an older, high-born man. He had almost pegged him as one of the wimpy, weak-willed, easily frightened little boys because of how "pretty" he was but didn't know how to take the number of weapons on his person or the look of anticipation in his eyes, he had seen it in seasoned warriors who loved the thrill of battle but it was more than just thrill. It was as if he wouldn't be sated if it wasn't a battle that he got. His attitude alone threw out the preconceived notions he had about the boy. He then burst with hearty laughter as he walked over and clapped the boy on the back, taken aback slightly when he heard and felt the clink of metal in his clothes but didn't say anything about it.

"Boy, you've got quite the set between your legs, especially for your age," the man said with a grin

"Please tell me those idiots back in Braavos did not toss me on a ship with a man who fancies them young and with a little more to love down there," said Conan, deducing the man probably wasn't gay but knew it would rile him up.

"Boy, didn't your mother ever teach you not to speak so rudely?" asked the seafarer. He noticed Conan's eyes darken a bit as if recalling a bad memory as his lips pursed. The man knew that look all too well, having seen it and even used it himself in his youth.

"Your mother not the teaching sort?" asked the man. Conan stayed silent for several seconds as the man didn't know if he offended or not.

"It's hard to teach when you're dead," said Conan, and the man nodded solemnly before placing a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"My apologie-" he was cut short when the shoulder was yanked from him as Conan turned to him with a furious look that unnerved him to no end that such a young boy had so much anger and could muster up such a level of hostility.

"I don't need your pity. I've done well enough with just my father and everyone else in my life. Would it have been nice to meet her? Of course, but I won't linger on "what could have been"," said Conan with finality. The man smiled at the boy who obviously was keeping strong. He had no doubt that his words were true but that didn't mean the void left by such an important figure like a mother isn't so easy to shrug off as evidenced by Conan's almost uncontrollable rambling at the end of his sentence.

"…Conan" the boy muttered, so softly that the man almost couldn't hear it.

"Wha-?" he said, showcasing his obvious intelligence

"Conan Battleborn. You asked for my name," said Conan to the aged man. He raised his eyebrow at the surname, similar names are typically given in special cases of birth but it was hard to believe such a boy was born during battle.

"Davos Seaworth, captain of the Black Betha," said the newly dubbed man. They then shook hands and it was there that they began a one year journey sailing to many places as pirates.

One Year Later

Davos taught Conan much about seafaring, the preciousness of freedom and adventure, and the value of being self-made. They narrowly escaped many authorities including the Night's Watch and the authorities of the Free Cities, with Conan making a name for himself due to his exceptional battle prowess and gifted riding abilities. He had made fast friends with everyone in the crew, amusing them with his sharp tongue, quick wit and his willingness to fight for them. He worked extra hard to pull his weight around the ship so that none of the members would give him any lip for being lazy, not that he would've cared but he refused to be a burden.

We now find our hero at the docks of Meereen, walking his black Destrier Stallion off of the Black Betha as he tied its reins to one of the dock's wooden beams as he helped load the ship's cargo onto it. He looked no different except marginally taller with his hair looking tousled lightly and flowing because of a year's worth of constant sea breeze, though it still framed his face perfectly, adding a wild aspect to his features.

"C'mon Conan, you sure you don't want to stay with us? We always need a child slave to lug around heavy shit for us" asked one of the members jokingly as he lugged in some crates and brought them into the lower levels of the ship.

"I have bigger dreams than serving as a cabin boy to you idiots," he said as he rolled his eyes with the other man grinning as he shoved Conan's head.

"Oh so you're too good for us, eh?" he taunted before Conan grinned competitively as he tackled him and they began roughhousing as many of the other crew members laughed and even joined by attacking each other.

"Was it-ughhh…that obvious hehe?" Conan taunted back before they all suddenly stopped fighting and began laughing together. They all reminisced of their year of fun-filled adventure and intoxicating freedom with the boy as they laughed at all of the memories made with him. He was going to be leaving a mark on their hearts, as he had started fights with noble folks who no one dared question for insulting the crew. They all thought he was crazy but they loved him as a brother and could appreciate his unusually strong sense of honor, justice, true nobility, and loyalty despite being pirates.

"Okay! It's about time for us to head off, boys!" yelled Davos from the deck as they all sullenly got up and walked with Conan up the stairs to the main deck to Davos who walked over to Conan and enveloped the boy in a hug.

"I'm going to miss you, boy. You're going to rattle the stars! I know you will…" said Davos, looking proudly at the boy who he considered to be an eighth son. The crew all joined in, making it a group hug which Conan grinned happily within.

"Don't think I won't find you sea scum again," said Conan as they all laughed and pushed Conan down the ramp connecting their ship to the dock.

"Wha-!?" exclaimed Conan as they removed the walkway, unfurled their sails and drew anchor.

"Well, we best be off, lad! We're going to hold you to your word about meeting again, you here?!" yelled Davos as he and the crew waved furiously.

"Haha someone's gotta get you idiots out of trouble when you finally get caught!" said Conan before they sailed just out of earshot and he stopped his waving before he turned to take in the glory of the city of Meereen. He walked through the city, taking in the sight of all the different colored bricks, the high walls studded with bastions and the great defensive towers at every angle. Most importantly, he examined the monstrous Great Pyramid that stood at an unprecedented 800 feet with smaller pyramids around it not even standing half as tall and a towering bronze harpy.

"Wow…this is one big city…" said Conan, walking before his senses screamed at him to spin around and raise his arm in defense, to which he complied and, much to his surprise, there was a whip now wrapped around his forearm which was held by a tall, muscled man with a predatory grin but he looked unnerved that he didn't catch the apparent easy prey completely.

"You're going to make a very nice slave, pretty boy…hehe…" said the man as he pulled on the whip and Conan let go of his horse's reins as he allowed his feet to slide across the ground as he was pulled in, watching as the man prepared to kick him in the chest. Conan waited until he got close enough before dropping to the ground and sliding through his legs while pulling the whip around his arm causing the man to be flipped due to the one leg being the only support he had before crashing into the ground, head first. The man growled in pain and tried to stand up though still dazed by the impact. Conan waited until his body language showed signs of hostility which he found when the man tried to quickly go for a dagger in his boot but Conan closed the distance and planted his fist into his gut causing him to double over before ramming his knee into his face to knock him out. Many of the Meereenese were absolutely shocked at how quickly the boy dispatched the slave capturer.

A gorgeous woman with lavish black hair with red streaks running through it and a revealing dress though it made sure to reveal only enough to make one want more, she donned fine jewelry that complimented her aristocratic features as she approached Conan.

"My...my…you're quite good. I've never quite seen such a boy like you, let alone one who could maneuver so easily in battle," said the woman, her tone sounding impressed and her dark, smoky eyes suggesting lust as she looked Conan over, despite his age. He had heard of the pleasure slaves in Meereen who were ideally younger than 10. Conan realized he was at risk especially, since he was only 9 but welcomed the challenge. He had begun to notice girls more and more over the years, especially the last one he spent sailing to different places with girls his age, many of which who were exotic beauties that became infatuated with Conan due to his looks, strength and heroic nature. He never did more than get several minutes worth of kissing but lately, he had began to feel the latent, unnaturally high Dothraki passion call out to ravage every beautiful woman he saw. However, unlike his people, he believed in the practice of control, so he reigned in his primal urges as he smiled at the woman.

"I try not to disappoint," he said cheekily as the woman smiled wider, revealing her perfect row of white teeth.

"My name is Gwen…short for Guinevere. I was looking through the marketplace for children looking for work, would you be interested? I would love to have you, you would be a great asset to us," said Gwen as she batted her eyelashes toward Conan as she smirked, trying to sound as pleasant as possible.

"Your words are almost as pretty as you, but I am not so easily fooled," started Conan with a smirk that caused Gwen's to fall before she giggled at how a not even pre-adolescent boy caught onto her deceit.

"Please accept my apology, young man. I will be straight forward with you. I plan on personally training you to become a pleasure slave. Your age is the ideal starting point for us in Meereen. Many adults seem to fancy either defiling or being defiled by the innocent youth. As I said, a boy with such a comely appearance is only told about in myths and songs so it would bring in great business to have such a boy, not even in his prime, to be able to administer a level of ecstasy that would bring in flocks of clients who would already be soaking wet at the mere mention of your beauty and prowess. Seeing your actual appearance would, theoretically, then cause their imagination to run wild with great fantasies of what is to come and you will dash away all of them by showing them just how inferior their fantasies were to the agonizing torture of pleasure they will be subject to for as long as you see fit before blessing them with the sweet, sweet feeling of release. Half of your work would be done for you before you ever lay a hand on them. If you prove to be even half as prodigious as I'm hoping, you will have noble women of Westeros willing to don armor and take up a lance to kill each other in your name," finished Gwen. Little did Conan know, but she was rubbing her thighs together underneath her dress as her own words were beginning to take effect as she said they would as flashes of images with Conan doing….unspeakable things to her, dragging out the ministrations of his nimble hands causing her throat to go raw with how much of a strain her constant screams of sweet, sweet pain were putting-

"Oi! Are you okay?" feigned Conan rather innocently, bringing her out of her daydream as she saw his big, gorgeous blue eyes splashed with sea green framed by his long, curled eyelashes betrayed hints of mischief though whether it was on purpose or if they always held such mischief Gwen did not know nor did she care as the innocent quality just portrayed made it all the more scandalous and tempting to try the boy out herself.

"Yes, I'm fine. But you are truly ideal, if your battle craft was anything to go off of. With your rigorous training to stay in battle ready condition, you'll soon grow to have the stamina reserves to please not only the most "impenetrable" of women, if you catch my drift, but you will also be able to withstand several encounters whether all at once, one after the other or score after score," said Gwen, a near sadistic gleam in her eye though her cheeks now resembled the highlights of her hair as she imagined an older, rugged Conan

"Thanks, but no thanks," said Conan, cutting off all train of thought as she looked at him bewildered.

"Why not?!" she said, now in fear of losing such a profitable investment, for both her and her line of work.

"I only came to Meereen to take part in the fighting pits. I plan on becoming the greatest warrior and I heard of the vicious fighting pits of gladiator versus anything vicious, whether it be another gladiator or a beast. I have no time to waste on pleasuring in order to not only survive but dominate each battle," said Conan as his eyes gleamed with excitement and anticipation at taking part in such events.

Gwen had never known a man, young(at least pre-teen she means) or old, to turn down an offer of sex with scores of women just so he could fight. She understood he couldn't be more than 10 so he may not care too much about sex now but she had managed to find many boys his age willing to do it but they mostly got thrown into the business to please the noble men with a taste for little boys. Women did not come to the pleasure houses as customers as often as men but it happened especially for Essosi women or Dornishwomen. Westerosi women who traveled to Essos frequented visits to Meereen for their pleasure houses as it wasn't acceptable for them to do so in Westeros. This being the case, every boy in any pleasure house was for the enjoyment of other men. Regardless, she now realized what sort of willpower she was dealing with and, as a result, the sort of man he would be. Still, she couldn't back down.

"Even better, we have been trying to get our boys to be able to successfully bout in the fighting pits for years but never have they been successful. With the pits, we would receive even more money for the fights won but our boys were never up to par. I've only met few men with anything close to the strong will you've shown me but I can tell from the way you speak of your dreams that you fully believe it will happen. If that is the case, I believe in you too…" said Gwen with a confident smirk, believing she had solved everything though Conan looked at her, a little confused now. The prostitute laughed as she saw his lost expression which she found almost irresistible.

"I mean, if you do take part in the fighting pit as a gladiator. Your training and the fights themselves will not only mold you into every maiden's dream with the ferocity only a man, especially a warrior, is capable of in sex, but it will do wonders for your advertisement. 'Come, one and all, to spend a whole day filled with animalistic, unimaginably wild and monstrously passionate fucking with The Gladiator on what could be his last night in this world as he goes to fight in the deadly fighting pits!' Women's cunts will be so wet on the way here that when they leave, they'll be able to follow it as a trail as they are carried into their carriages to go home," she said to Conan who now began to truly contemplate the decision.

He really did want to learn how to please a woman; he had been well accustomed to sex in his childhood as he watched his people fuck women as if they were rabbits in heat. But from what he could tell and from what he'd heard from not only the slaves and wives of the Dothraki, but the courtesans of Braavos and the women he'd met on his nautical adventures, most of the time sex was only pleasurable for the man. He typically put his all into it, which was usually not much, and after releasing his load he would pass out and not completely satisfy the woman's needs, if at all. He genuinely hated such a selfish ideal and wanted to surpass men in another way. He purposefully had resisted most people's attempts to bed him and had only allowed 2 girls to kiss him after Dany, one of them being Princess Arianne who was now 11 when he visited Dorne. She had apparently missed him since he took her around Braavos and had a funny way of showing it. She was extremely sultry and very passionate, even for a Dornishmen which he could relate to as it seems his on-going celibacy seemed to have increased his libido to levels even beyond the Dothraki but was only tempered by his indomitable willpower. He would be lying if he said the woman hadn't wormed her way into his heart for all of her efforts. Despite her affinity for sex, he had grown to love her passion for life and love of adventure as well as the tenderness she displayed behind closed doors which he felt privileged to see. She had also been gradually losing the weight she had put on the year before and was beginning to become curvier every day. He knew she would love the prowess he would develop as would Dany, who he missed an awful lot since she had to leave Braavos. He had still thought about the times he spent with her and how amused he got when she would stop acting so timid and spineless with him and call him names, trust him with all of her true feelings and introduce him to certain emotions he wasn't accustomed to, especially for someone with his cultural background. But unlike his culture, he hardly cared for getting his own pleasure whenever he thought of sex. Anytime he found himself entertaining thoughts on the subject, he only enjoyed himself whenever his partners were more than "enjoying themselves" . And like whenever he wanted to be good at something, he wanted to make sure he could make an art out of it in order to be the best.

"Very well…I accept your business proposal, woman. Don't expect me to become nice and proper though…" said Conan, while he was appreciative that the beauty was giving him such an opportunity, he would be damned if someone tried to impose their will on him.

"But of course…what sort of gladiator would you be if you were tamed? It'd be false advertising," said Gwen with a teasing smirk.

"And I refuse to take any male clients unless they are either financing my services for a woman or if they want me to spice things up in their bedroom but no contact between the male or I will be taking place," said Conan, an authoritative tone of voice uncharacteristic of a boy his age that most people might find insolent but Gwen not only understood it reasonable considering how they both knew what happened to attractive boys his age in that business when old men with withered cocks and overflowing coin purses came in, feeling an itch that needed to be scratched. She could only imagine what would happen if such an exceptionally beautiful boy with such a beauty unique to him alone were made to take male clients. She also felt it would do well for him to be so domineering as it would serve well in the bedroom, plus she didn't want such an investment to go bad by forcing him into something he didn't want.

"Very well, so are you going to tell me your name now?" asked Gwen with a smirk as Conan's face flushed as he realized he forgot to introduce himself.

"My name is Conan. Many call me Conan Battleborn, but I have no true surname," said Conan, saying his name with pride as Gwen nodded and offered her hand as is custom when meeting someone for the first time and Conan smirked as he took her hand and placed a kiss on it. Gwen giggled at his attempt at chivalry.

"Hehe...at least you already know how to greet a lady. Let's get started..." said Gwen.

They began their two years together with Conan learning the complex and intensive methods of giving a woman pleasure, maximizing that pleasure for as long as they want and beyond that to the point where it begins to feel like a very sweet, sweet pain every second they are not climaxing, catering to the woman's primal need to be lead and dominated in bed by implementing styles that almost made it seem as if he forced her into an uncomfortable position before ravaging her with his tongue as his skillful hands worked some other place on her body; in that case, it'd contain the thrill and some of the roughness of a rape that instilled a sense of fear but the temptation of doing a bad thing, wild sex and, no doubt, her need to finish at the hands of a man who served only for her pleasure and who knew what he was doing trumped her sense of decency, as she was introduced to a whole new, completely animalistic, burning of desire with following passion that a person would make knowing it was their last time they would ever get the chance. Conan especially favored very long, slow, but agonizingly pleasuring and using his breath to deceive her body into believing he was about to pleasure a certain spot but either attacking a completely different spot immediately or waiting for her impatience to get the better of her so the squirming begins, based off of which he would decide whether to continue torturing her slowly or faster but either way, he would suddenly stop as he sensed her climax rushing to the surface and use an intensely passionate look to peer directly into her eyes, reflecting all of the burning passion and desire rippling in the pools of green and brown that staring at them for too long began making one's own libido increase exponentially which happened as he subdued all of the woman's limbs, allowing her to squirm and be tortured by her inability to even touch herself as her soaking womanhood begged for someone to finish it off and eventually, she would begin to leak...leak...then she would burst like dam. Seeing this, he would then finally dive his fingers or tongue in and press into her g-spot to not only morphing it into a whole body, earth shattering orgasm but it would open the door for multiple ones like it but with added squirting to follow soon after to completely finish her. The woman's body would be jerking and squirming uncontrollably as she rode out every one of her orgasms and only seeing white for the duration of it all before she passed out in complete exhaustion.

More often than not, Conan felt the plight of many women as due to his already insanely rigorous training sessions that he came to Meereen with that only got more intense over the years but coupled with the daily fighting in the pits and the additional training they gave, which was intense in its own right, made Conan's physical prowess something to behold as he was able to subdue large, dangerous beasts bare handed all day if he wanted to draw it out, so he had to endure his body's burning need to be relieved of its "load" but his partners never lasted long enough or took much attention to his own pleasure. He was generally fine with it all, as he felt great knowing he gave someone else such pleasure but obviously he hated having to be left unfinished and he was never one to play with his cock as other men, so he had to wait it out. Conan also pulled out as to prevent any spawn of his to be born, as he was taught.

In other news, he made glorious, morbidly beautiful art out of the kills he gave to animals, but he never killed humans with the promise to the organizers that dealing with their defeats would only grow to infuriate them and motivate them to become better, which would serve his purposes for fighting good opponents as well as to keep himself on his toes and their needs to bring in large crowds that would want to see the interesting fights. He met many of his fellow Dothrak who were captured for the pits and after he defeated them, he would tell them his identity as the son of Khal Drogo, the lost khalakka. Oft times, they'd feel better knowing it was one of their own they were giving their cut braids to as he would actually understand and appreciate the value. Conan also allowed himself to act as a slave for all other purposes too, including the building of vast constructions where he would take it upon himself to carry heavier loads than the other men, using all chances to push himself to the limit and become stronger. He would even take other's loads when they could not lift any more, adding onto the considerable load he already forced upon himself. He struggled, even threatening to collapse and be crushed by the weight but every time, he would remind himself of his dream and continue onward. The men he helped felt so grateful that they sometimes helped keep him on his feet, assisting him as he did them. He maintained and strengthened his willpower by not only mouthing off to the slavers and enduring countless hours of torture but keeping his resistance alive and strong even afterwards. When they decided to whip or flog him or any sort of possibly scarring injury, he always made sure he faced the punishment, head held high, back straight, shoulders broad and eyes glaring with defiance. He unnerved all of his slavers in this way and some of them even got so frightened by his intense gaze alone that they either stopped after punishing him for a bit, which usually started off with Conan repressing his yelps and channeling the pain into intensifying the expression of his face, his silence during the struggle adding to the fear or they got too scared to try. In fact, all the slaves in Meereen who were helped or witnessed Conan assisting others during labor took note of his slightly scarred torso but his back never profaned by weak will or cowardice. They began to call him the "Unscarred Back" in their language which also translated into "strong back" as a sign of his immense honor, bravery, and strength of will as he helped whenever he could.

He was also known for giving much of the pocket money, that he received from Gwen for his battles, to the other slaves so that they could indulge a little in what they could. He would always speak to the other slaves and encourage them to begin to form and pursue dreams and ambitions. He passionately spoke of how life is as meaningful as you choose to make it and simply surviving is no way to live. They all became inspired and wanted to be able to live a life that was meaningful to them. He solidified their belief in themselves with stories of powerful warriors and politicians who came from nothing and were self-made. Many were embarrassed to tell them his dream, but he reassured them that he believed ridiculing another person's dream is one of the most dishonorable things a man could do and that he believes anything a man finds meaningful, even if it seems mundane at first glance, deserves to at least be given a second thought. He was a little disappointed all of them wanted to take some path to a life of a spouse, children, with high position in society with a castle to be buried in. Some of the children wanted to be proud warriors that saved people, a profession he could respect, powerful lords and ladies or revolutionary queens, something else he could respect because it would be breaking down the barriers of tradition for equality.

Now after 2 years had past, Conan was in a glass pit filled with water housed by the normal fighting pit where everyone could see he was holding his breath as he faced off with a massive shark-like creature.

Little did he know, the sickeningly rich Astapori, Kraznys mo Nakloz had decided to visit Meereen to spectate the fight. He, as many people in Essos, had heard tale of an extremely famous slave who made his trade off of battle, sex, and hard labor. A well-rounded slave that excelled in anything he worked hard to do well in, which was something you never saw in slaves. It was almost as if he wanted to be a slave, the wealthy man saw that and figured he was a slave who "knew his place as trash who should be happy to do such work for the entertainment of more important people". Nakloz prided himself in the way he trained Unsullied and his wildly popular fighting pits in Astapor, so he came to scout potential. He typically only picked children of age 5 but if the famed "Gladiator" was as he was said to be, it would be foolish not to buy him.

Conan was now lightly pushing through the water, effortlessly swimming with all of his weight-filled clothing and heavy weaponry. The shark glared at him with the predatory eyes of its kind before beaming towards Conan while baring its razor sharp fangs. Conan shot forth in a burst of speed as his powerful legs kicked as he drew a Westerosi style long sword and swung downward at the shark, the effect of the water pressure less than it usually is due to Conan's extensive training underwater. The shark, however, didn't seem to acknowledge the weapon as it plowed into the blade which Conan had now used as a way to pry the shark from biting into his flesh but was propelled to the very edge of the glass pit with the shark trying to break the blade with its nose to chomp onto his head. Conan couldn't help but smirk as he groaned, he slowly began pushing against the shark and, to everyone's surprise, the shark was being forced back against its will. Now, this shark was well over 600 lbs. and its strength was monstrous, so to see a pre-adolescent boy pressing it out was a sight to behold, especially with it being underwater where his body was being restrained somewhat. With a great heave, Conan swung the blade and the shark was sent shooting through the water with a rather deep cut in its nose but as if that wasn't enough, a part of the glass had scarring as some water began to leak onto the fighting pit's dirt ground.

Suddenly the audience broke out of their suspenseful silence and began cheering in bewilderment at the feat of strength the 11 year old just demonstrated. It was phenomenal and terrifying to see that a human being and that age was capable of such things. Kraznys had seen enough to know that he had to get the boy into his command.

However, the shark wasn't done and it roared so ferociously, it shook the glass pit causing some water to spill from the top. It tore through the water, rapidly chomping its teeth and it rammed into the flat of Conan's blade again and it pushed Conan up towards the surface of the pit which he didn't mind as his increased lung capacity was starting to run low on air. However, what he didn't expect was the power at which the shark sent him flying out of the water, causing him to be thrown into the air just above the tank before the shark shot out of the water after him with its jaws open wide to swallow Conan whole as he came down.

"SHIT!" panicked Conan as he flapped his arms, hoping that by some miracle he would start flying but to no avail, he soon began to fall. Some of the audience were laughing at his antics, always enjoying Conan's attempts at relieving the tension in a situation. However, when they saw him starting to fall, they bit their tongues and watched intently at what was going to happen. Conan split his legs so that his right leg was held in front of him and his left pointing behind him. He then started flipping in that position, looking like a grey wheel that sped down through the air and just as the shark had stopped lost its momentum in the air, Conan had brought his legs together while still flipping and used the added momentum gained to add more strength to perform an even stronger double axe kick into its nose that sent it flying back into the water with a huge splash with Conan falling in soon after.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" exclaimed the audience as they were all now on their feet and feeling just a fraction of the thrill Conan felt in his battles, and anyone would admit that it was intoxicating and made you forget everything. Though for Conan, it was more along the lines of actual joy to struggle through difficult challenges and exploiting ways to overcome them.

The shark groaned in pain as it shook its head, slightly dazed from the powerful strike. Conan grit his teeth as he felt his right calf bleeding due to the leg accidentally scraping into one of the open teeth of the shark as it came down. Suddenly, the scent of blood caused the shark to forget about its pain and it went into a frenzied state of attack as it shot down Conan once more, who was floating in the lower depths of the water.

Conan grinned fiercely, baffling everyone how he could look so excited when many people would annoyed and exhausted with such a tenacious foe. His piercing aquamarine gaze bore into the shark's beady black eyes and the shark's instincts began to sound alarms that things were about to go bad if it tread any further but a shark's nature is to continue forward and its frenzied nature prevented it from stopping altogether, so forward it went to devour Conan.

Conan sheathed his sword, his whole body aching from the bout with the shark and he decided he would go bare handed for this final clash. He then kicked forward, his hair being pushed against his face but he peered through the locks with a grin still plastered on his face as the shark's roar tore through the silence of the fighting pit even through the water while it crazily chomped its teeth.

'I am so...'

Conan suddenly got a dangerous glint in his eyes, becoming just as predatory as the shark's as he pulled his fist back while kicking at full speed. He was watching intently, having deduced the shark's rhythm in their few clashes together and by observing its jaw motions then using that perception, he timed his speed so that he closed the distance almost moving out of focus of anyone watching, including the shark, as its jaws clenched shut in its cycle of chomping then, combined with the momentum of his swimming, he sent punch soaring into the underside of its closed jaw that propelled the both of them out of the water once more, into the air.

"DONE WITH YOU!" Conan finishing his thought out loud , still fiercely grinning as the shark flew off of his fist even higher into the air before falling to the dirt with blood trailing out of his mouth along with shattered teeth. Conan panted while airborne as the adrenaline wore off before reality set in and he realized...

"IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNN!" Conan belted out at the top of his lungs as loud as he could while falling towards the ground. He quickly flipped mid fall almost as he was about to hit the ground, losing the momentum he picked up and landed gracefully on his two feet though his arms were raised high in victory. The audience was chanting his name over and over as they applauded, cheered, whooped and hollered.

2 hours later

Conan was sitting at the end of a long table with many seats and eating a rather fine meal in the pleasure house, devouring every piece of meat and bread he could get his hands on. Fighting several hundred pound beasts does that to growing boy who burns just as many, if not more, calories training, fighting and fornicating. Gwen smiled as she entered the dining room which was one of the "staff only rooms" where the employees would rest up, eat or drink before having to take more clients.

"Congratulations, Conan. You never cease to amaze me or the audience for that matter," said Gwen as she sat down next to him with a cup raised. Conan flashed his flawless white teeth as he belted out with melodic laughter as he touched his wine cup to hers and drank his fill.

"That was a damn good fight, that shark was really persistent. It managed to get those daggers in its mouth it calls teeth to nick my arms constantly while I was prying it off me," complained Conan as he showed her his growing, but still well toned arms that now were sporting several slightly jagged cuts along them that probably were going to heal.

"Well, it was worth it because I got paid rather handsomely for those love bites..." taunted Gwen with a giggle as she sipped her own wine. Suddenly, an accented voice that didn't sound Meereenese and suggested one with wealth and influence interrupted them.

"Good to know he'll be good for bringing me more money..." said Kraznys mo Nakloz, standing at the entrance of the room with a detail of scrawny bordering on lean soldiers donning a plain, quilted tunic, a short sword sheathed at their hip, a round shield attached to their left forearm and a spear in their right hands. Completing the uniform were distinctive spiked caps. These were the eunuch slave soldiers...the reincarnation of the lock-step legions of Old Ghis...the Unsullied.

"You can't be back here!" started Gwen as she got up and walked over to Kraznys with a stern glare. "This is reserved only for employees and the ow-OW!" she was cut off as one Unsullied soldier stepped forth already swinging his hand as he smacked her across the face with a cold expression. Kraznys sneered cruelly and chuckled.

"Now as I was sayin-" he was cut off as when the Unsullied soldier was about to step back into formation, the back of his cap was gripped before plunging his face into the wooden floor, busting through it. Conan was now sitting cross legged beside the unconscious Unsullied soldier, one hand on the back of his head and the other putting his wine cup to his lips as his eyes glowered intensely at the lot of the intruders.

"State your business..." said Conan in a commanding tone that one would find belonging to a lord or captain of a military, not an 11 year old boy. Kraznys was infuriated that a slave boy had told him what to do.

"Hold your tongue, boy! You are not speaking to some whore or slave, I am a Good Master of Astapor and of the noble House Nakloz. You will show me respect!" said Kraznys with a grin as he thought he put an end to the boy's insolence.

"I didn't ask who you are or where you came from and I really don't care" he said with a cheeky smirk and disrespectful, rebellious tone . Kraznys was unnerved but his arrogance knew no bounds.

"You insolent insect! You best take care not to upset me, I am not to be trifled with. Now pack your things, you will be trained to become one of my Unsullied," commanded Kraznys. Suddenly Conan bust out laughing uncontrollably, holding his gut as he pound his free fist onto the back of the unconscious Unsullied's head. Apparently it was contagious because Gwen covered her mouth as she began to giggle uncontrollably as well. Kraznys' face slowly became red with rage and embarrassment at being laughed at.

"WHAT IS SO FUNNY, YOU INSIGNIFICANT SHIT!?" he demanded before Conan calmed down to chuckling.

"You must be an idiot to think I would go to your service," said Conan with a smirk. Kraznys then began to fume until a thought came to his head. He then smirked evilly.

"I will have my Unsullied not only destroy this establishment, but I will use my influence to make sure this business loses every client it has..." said Kraznys, thinking he had him.

Conan thought out his threats. He knew his personal clients couldn't be paid any amount of money to turn down his services nor the clients of most of the other employees, they were the most skilled pleasurers in Essos. They devoted themselves to the very art and mechanics behind sex instead of just stockpiling themselves with beautiful people with more or less mediocre skills. He, especially, was a special case because he was the only male prostitute strictly for female clients. He also knew he could probably take that small group of Unsullied but he wouldn't risk underestimating them. This would also be a great opportunity to increase his martial prowess even further with the Unsullied training regimen which he heard was incredibly brutal and intense, more so than any other regimen heard of.

"...Very well. Just leave this place and everyone alone..." said Conan feigning fear and reluctance so that it would look as if Kraznys was in control. The man played right into his hands.

"Good...now come along. We have to get back to Astapor. Oh and do not worry, whore, I'll pay you a handsome sum for the loss," said Kraznys.

"Keep your money I don't want it! Conan, you don't have to do it!" said Gwen as she ran over to him and shook his body. He simply looked at her face and smiled at her reassuringly. Suddenly, she knew that he was already planning something. Having known the youth for two years, she knew he took any chance he got to get stronger so she figured that's what this was.

"Take the money, okay? It's the least I can do for leaving you like this..." said Conan, still smiling though a little

"Hehe...I'll miss you, you brat.." said Gwen as she brought Conan in for a hug which he warmly returned as he held his lips close to her ear.

"Thank you for all that you've taught and done for me. These are things I won't ever forget for as long as I live and I hope to meet you again once I've realized my goal," said Conan with a voice so confident that it sounded as if he truly believed it would happen.

'When is he not, heh...' thought Gwen, wistfully. Conan then placed on all of his armor, weapon and signature cloak before going to his room, looking over the rather plain area before slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking out with a final look.

"Onward with my journey. Hm...once I rid myself of that pompous glutton, I don't know whether to look for my father or to finally visit Westeros. I've always wanted to see it, especially the North. The culture of the place was completely fascinating, I'm glad they had books back in Braavos detailing most of it. It must be a great honor to be stationed where they serve the entire realm, rather than serving any one king or nation unlike the legendary Kingsguard," said Conan with a hint of disappointment. While he respected the Kingsguard's reputation and the caliber of knights who served, he couldn't help but think all these warriors were possibly going to be forced to do awful things or selfish, political maneuvers of the politicians in King's Landing requiring their prowess which would also be, in his opinion, unworthy of their skills. Protecting the King until the White Walkers arise again was respectable, but the dishonorable and greedy motives that either the politicians have for commanding them or the knights themselves have for not speaking out against it is what he despised. Conan anticipated that was what happened in King's Landing as most men tend to forget their values once they are in a good position.

"Well...here I go," he said as he pushed the door of the pleasure house open to leave.

Chapter End!

You guys know what to do, haha. Ja ne!


	5. Old Grind, New Sights

Chapter 5: Back to the old grind

As the chapter suggests, Conan left weeks ago from Meereen to Astapor with the Good Master, Kraznys mo Nakloz and his company of Unsullied soldiers. They were moving similar to a caravan and Conan was made to eat, drink, sleep and walk with the Unsullied. He was very much okay with this because he was a Dothraki, meaning he was born and bred to be cavalry so walking so much without being able to so much as touch a horse, let alone mount one. He enjoyed the challenge of walking for miles and miles on end, not only training his lower body strength and endurance, but also his speed because he would speed walk as fast as he could for miles and miles as he walked ahead of the entire century of Unsullied he brought along with him and counted his steps so that he would walk on his hands for double the amount of distance and steps to train his arms as well.

The Unsullied, even with all of the things they've been through that made it impossible for them to think anyone was even crazier than they were, began to think that Conan had a few screws loose up there because they only did this because they were conditioned to do it after years of being broken physically, mentally and psychologically to the point where they are completely and utterly obedient. The Unsullied's consumption of the Wine of Courage which deadened their sensitivity to pain and, as a result, their fear helps them cope with the countless time on their feet, as the Good Masters liked to make sure they remember their place as foot soldiers. However, they'd never seen someone so eager for the walking, which in it of itself is not remarkably crazy, but it was as if he WANTED to walk like that which they thought was crazy. None of them wanted what they were put through, they were all forced but Conan was the first person to ever choose and the word was spread by those who were with Kraznys as his guardians that while it appeared as if Kraznys forced him into a corner, anyone else who wasn't blinded with their own arrogance was able to see that Conan clearly wanted it despite Kraznys' threat, which the century heard. This made them all think he either was stupid, arrogant, crazy or heavily underestimated the ordeals the Good Masters would come up with to break him.

The fact he did what they were doing with all the weight he seemed to be carrying in his bag and weapons along with walking on his hands, the cartwheels, flips, jogging, running, sprinting, leaping, as well as practicing the footwork of the different styles he knew while being mobile. He did this in repetitions on his feet, hands, and carrying the most overweight Unsullied near him and putting him on his back as he did it on his feet. They didn't know why he was so intense about these training exercises, it just didn't make sense for someone to be so driven like that.

It was amazing….the Unsullied didn't typically speak unless commanded to by their masters, but in just a short time, Conan's behavior got through their indifference to everything.

"Why do you do this? You act as if you want to become an Unsullied" asked a stocky, brown skinned with a serious face in his early to mid twenties with absolutely no sign of facial hair or any ever having grown or growing, in a dialect of bastard Valyrian. His actual hair was short and brown, tightly wound balls of rough, unkempt, nappy curls. His face was square with a wide nose and lips were big.

Conan looked up at the man and flashed the man such an infectious easygoing grin that the corners of the man's mouth twitched but he was so unused to smiling and unfamiliar to it that it was only out of experience he did not, but he felt like he really wanted to smile. However, he was also infuriated with the fact that he had a choice and he chose to be in such a horrible place, but he himself never got a choice.

"I have to get stronger. I can't become the greatest warrior if I don't train every moment I get a chance," said Conan as he chuckled a bit. The man raised an eyebrow as the rage bubbling inside of him grew.

"So you thought becoming an Unsullied was a good way to train? …You thought this might be a good exercise…" said the man as he grit his teeth, the indifferent surface of his and several other Unsullied's expressions breaking with so much anger that they began to snarl. However, Conan still had a grin plastered on his face, he could easily read their expressions and could tell the effect his motives and intent were having on them.

Suddenly, the man who was questioning him threw a punch that hit him across the jaw. Conan's head flew to the side but that was all that it seemed to do. He was STILL grinning as he turned his head to face the man again. Then another blow came…then another…then someone else joined in and then another and then another and soon a whole gang were getting as many blows as they could to the object of their irritation. Conan simply stood there and took their blows, using the sheer strength of his immense willpower to stay standing under their righteous fury.

"YOU THINK THIS IS SOME SORT OF GAME!? YOU FOOL! ONCE YOU CHOSE THIS LIFE, YOU FORFEITED YOUR RIGHT TO BE SEEN AS HUMAN! YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THAN A WEAPON FOR THEM TO USE WHEN THEY NEED YOU TO KILL SOMEONE WITHOUT QUESTION! YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE ANY EMOTIONS, GOALS, AMBITIONS OR DOUBTS! ONLY OBEDIENCE AND TO DO HORRID THINGS! YOU THINK ITS SO EASY LIKE YOU CAN WALK AWAY WHENEVER YOU WANT!? WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!" yelled the man as pure fury shone brightly in his dark brown eyes as the other men yelled after each question in agreement. He and the rest of the Unsullied stopped after several minutes when they got all of their aggression out. Conan's smile widened as his body looked battered all over with bruises and cuts, out of the corner of his mouth was a trail of blood but that was miraculously the only sign of injury to his facial area.

"Are you all done…?" asked Conan, though his face was smiling, his voice sounded...restrained. Normally, the gang would've passed it off as him trying not to let the pain in his voice show, but there was a glint in his eye and a change in his air that made their base instincts…cause them to become very cautious on what they did around him from now on but that didn't make them any less upset.

"You-" started the man, but he was cut off.

"Shut up…" Conan said with such an air of finality that reminded the man of the authority of the Good Masters minus the entitlement or promise of pain that he felt his obedient nature shut him up. It was important to differentiate the two types of authoritativeness. While the Good Masters' was one obtained through psychologically breaking and physically tormenting trials since an Unsullied's childhood which only was enforced through the fear of pain, the one Conan just exhibited was one to simply comply to his demand with no right to request it of him at all, it was simply backed with the unconquerable willpower that he had in spades…the will of a king. He had no doubt any normal person would have complied when subject to the might of such a force but his and his comrades' natures especially was easy felled by it. But it wasn't purely through this authoritativeness, it was also backed by the respect his warrior spirit unknowingly gave the boy several years his junior. He not only did all this to serve as a way to obtain strength but he took their assault while standing and hadn't complained. Even when you could tell all he wanted to do was to scream his head off, he grit his teeth and kept that grin up. All of them felt and saw the immense desire he had to not only prove that he was stronger than their combined rage but that his irrational rebellious nature. To not give them the satisfaction of his screams or signs of weakness, it was as if he truly believed in his crusade for strength. This combined with the way the boy pushed himself during much of their time together caused not only him, but the every Unsullied present to hear the request, to comply to the strong willed boy's command.

Suddenly Conan broke the silence with muffled chuckles before he started guffawing as he held his stomach and just laughed his ass off.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Y-you should've seen the looks on your faces! PPFFFFFHAHAHAHAHAHA!" said Conan as he attempted but failed as he copied the angry, intense looks of the Unsullied as they beat him but was too preoccupied with laughing. The Unsullied all watched and eventually, their mouths started twitching as many of them were stubborn to simply let go of the irritation they had but just watching as Conan had the laugh of his life proved too much and they started grinning before bursting into laughter alongside him. If it wasn't for the fact that Kraznys' other slaves were making noise and he was too self-indulged with all of the luxurious food and company of the female slaves pleasuring him in his carriage, he would've actually heard the boisterous laughter of the Unsullied behind them among the clacking of the horses' shoes and creeking of the wheels.

Once Conan calmed down, he wiped a tear from his eye as he looked them over with a grin. They all still had a few chuckles left as they were left with big smiles of their own.

"So you didn't mean what you said?" asked the man with a smile. Conan then laughed once more.

"I damn sure did. I meant every word of it," said Conan with a grin, that made the Unsullied's smiles waver slightly.

"Wha-? Why? That's crazy and stupid!" asked the man, a little bewildered though his lips still held the ghost of a smile.

"It's what I decided to do with my life. I'm to become the greatest warrior in order to fight the greatest battles. I will do whatever I want to do with that power…save lives, defeat evil, and anything I decide. Becoming the world's strongest is what I've dedicated my life to do, so I'm the only one that gets to call me crazy. You all have no right to ridicule a man's dream, it's the most sacred thing he possesses. It's the drive behind his resolve, what keeps him moving forward," said Conan with a simple smile though his eyes and voice conveyed intense passion and belief in his words.

"Dreams…? How can dreams be so sacred?" asked the man, not understanding. He had always seen the most powerful men cherishing wealth, status, land, and power as what makes a person successful but this is the first he'd ever come across the idea that dreams were sacred.

"What are we without our dreams? We all want something, but the goal that we want so badly to achieve, the drive that keeps us waking up every morning and going through what we have to in hopes to one day achieve what YOU think is great. It just so happens that almost everyone's dreams include wanting to live comfortably with no worries or troubles. I choose to live my life to face all challenges and to grow stronger and stronger till the end of my days. That is why I don't call it a quest for power because power nowadays is either being born with the ability to manipulate and use others or doing something disgusting in order to do so. My goal for strength is all about self improvement by way of fighting things that feel they are strong enough to be allowed to dominate weaker beings, so I challenge those bastards. It just so happens it protects those weaker ones in the process, which is something I love to do. I want people to depend on me and not think I'm just a savage," said Conan with a passionate grin that made everyone grin alongside him. They all felt his desire to protect was immense but his desire to do battle was even greater.

"I just despise when other men think they can oppress and toy with the wills of others? We all have the right to choose what we want to do and no one has the right to take that from anyone," said Conan with such a glare of righteous fury it put their previous one to shame. They could feel much hostility coming off of him in waves and they were becoming afraid he might do something crazy…but it suddenly cleared and he blinked several times before his aquamarine eyes lost their rage.

"I think I understand now….dreams are always with man and the fuel that we need in order to keep on living with any sort of hope. Without dreams, why bother living anymore…" said the man as he was in awe of the wisdom of the boy. He himself nor anyone around him in his lifetime could have thought of such a thing in their dark situation but this boy was a beacon of light…a ray of hope that they could all have dreams…they could have hope for better days.

"Haha, now you're getting it. You know…you lied to me," said Conan with a smirk that played on his sculpted natural red lips. The man rose an eyebrow at this accusation.

"You said the Unsullied were broken of their emotion but it seems you all are stronger than you thought. You all took your identity as human beings back without even knowing it…" said Conan as he walked on, leaving that platoon of Unsullied to their thoughts.

"That man…he somehow helped us regain our human nature. Did he…did he tell us his goals to enrage us on purpose…?" the man pondered but realized there was no way he would have reason to believe it would. It was just the way the boy was, which made it even more remarkable. The other Unsullied were following his train of thought.

"Oh…" started Conan as he turned around, flashing them a bright white, happy smile. "My name is Conan Battleborn, you all would do well to remember it. I'm soon going to become history's greatest warrior…" said Conan with intense conviction coming off of him as strong as his willpower, suddenly instilling in the lot of them that he actually could do it. They were all blown away by the boy's ability to change them so instantly. Everyone always thinks change is a slow and grueling process, especially they did with how long they changed into the "reincarnation of the lockstep legions of Old Ghis" but true change, the kind that one wanted for themselves was instantaneous. That's another lesson they learned in their first interaction with Conan. The man, in particular, was feeling overwhelmed with this change.

"My name is Grey Worm! My dream is to one day find something that may drive me to become even a fraction of how passionate Conan Battleborn is to live life for a cause I deem great! I shall always remember this name for this will be the name that I take when I am finally free to choose, because it is the day that I was taught of how to dream and how to make the life of someone, as worthless as me, worth something" said Grey Worm with a salute to Conan who simply tilted his head, confused.

"Worthless? You? You are one of the thousands of men that not only protect, defend and kill for the Good Masters of Astapor. The legacy of the men at the Battle of Qothor who defended against 20,000 Dothraki soldiers with only 3,000 Unsullied with the battle ending with a staggering 12,000 casualty rate on the Dothraki side, the legendary khal Temmo, his bloodriders and his son all included in that. On the Unsullied's side, they lost 2,400 men but the new khal took his khalasar and laid their cut braids at the feet of the 600 Unsullied left. You are NOT worthless; none of you are, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You guys are the elite soldiers to survive training and become Unsullied, the Free Cities and wealthy depend on you protection," said Conan before turning on his heel and continuing his exercises while moving forward.

Grey Worm and the Unsullied did something they hadn't done since they were five years old…their lips pulled back into some of the most brilliant smiles they'd ever given in their lives. They had been reassured of their self-worth, restored of their emotions and given hope for dreams of the future in the span of 20 minutes when all seemed dark and murky, that boy was a ray of light showing them the path of dreams. However, they would wait until they saw how he handled the training to fully see if he was worth believing or not.

**Timeskip- Astapor**

Conan was now going through the basic spearman stances of the Unsullied. Now, the Unsullied were basic spearmen individually and it didn't take long, what with Conan's natural affinity for anything battle-oriented, to understand the mechanics and theory behind spearmanship before mastering the lockstep footwork and spear techniques used by the Unsullied, but his creativity and urge to excel shone through and he began to create all kinds of spear maneuvers to set himself apart from the rest. He became an excellent spearman and trained constantly from swinging massive pole like objects to thrusting them, typically his barbells which increased his strength, striking speed and efficiency with a spear. He never did less than 10,000 repetitions with any of the spear exercises when he first started out in order to not take so long in getting up to speed and now did several thousand of them diligently in his half of his free time. The other half was divided up between ridiculously several thousand repetitions of his other training including body, weaponry, stealth, footwork, etc. that tired him out because he put his all into each exercise and only was able to keep going due to willpower, but because of the intensity of the exercises, he was able to compensate for the short amount of time he actually spent doing them because he moved onto the next exercise. He started sparring against several Unsullied at once as they performed their disciplined lockstep formation to protect themselves against him. Conan had to say it was incredibly difficult with the amazing discipline they had, so his plans for training were to not only familiarize himself with the way it works, the key elements of its efficiency, how to fight it and several opponents in synchronization, in general. While he made sure he had the intelligence to cause chaos and to strike where it would disrupt their discipline but he wanted to beat it in every way. He read of how the dragons of Old Valyria completely dominated the lockstep legions, granted they could fly and had lethal dragonfire but he wanted to dominate them in his own way. In a way that was so completely human, it would be considered so spectacular and amazing that it was Inhuman and supernatural. No one would be able to doubt his strength as no one questioned the power of dragons. It would mind boggle everyone about how skills so mundane and inherently human that it was magnified to phenomenal heights that he would achieve what his Dothraki forefathers could not achieve with 20,000 men; what only the Valyrian dragon riders could do through dragons _alone_.

So what he did, he had many Unsullied stand in wagons in full armor, armed and with large rocks in the wagon with them. Conan would spend his Good Master-sanctioned training regimens to scale mountains at night pulling, pushing, and carrying them up and down repeatedly. The price for failure is being thrown to the savage, bloodthirsty, wild dogs that would tear up anyone the Good Masters put in front of them. Conan was just too exhausted…he tried pushing the lot of them in the wagon as hard as he could but his body was at its limit right now. He wasn't able to scale the mountain, but the Good Masters did not care if he was pushing himself farther than the others. They threw him to the dogs and laughed as they watched the dogs claw and bite at him. They got in several licks but Conan felt an unbridled rage well up inside of him, his failure along with the way the Good Masters so easily tried throw away his life; a life where he was going to do great things…and he couldn't get past the challenge it presented. As he laid there and watched as the dogs tear into his rather durable body, his rage grew…and grew…and it was so easy to allow himself to feel self-pity and die but… he refused to give up. He refused to be killed by something as measly as this…to die in a place like this; to creatures like this…to people like this.

With a great battle cry, he threw his hands out and grabbed two of the dogs muzzles, clamping them shut with his smooth but strong hands. The dogs temporarily stopped as they felt something change in the air…there was a LOT of rage but there was also the utter refusal to die, the thirst to succeed and an _intense _hunger for battle. It was overwhelming but they suddenly felt the urge to fight for their lives. They went berserk…well all except for the two who were in his grasp that tried to but could not open their jaws.

Conan scowled and swung both dogs into the others to knock them back but they were tenacious and got back quick, dashing at him again to rip him apart. He began moving quickly and silently as he moved using his Water Dancer skills and began outmaneuvering dogs before he lashed out with a roundhouse with his left leg that slammed into the sides of 3 dogs' heads, tossing them back hard into the walls of the pit they were stuck in before they struggled to get up, looking rather dazed. He then threw the dogs in his grip at them to knock them all down. He then got into an unarmed stance as the dogs got up and charged him again. He dodged their frenzied swipes as his eyes dilated as he analyzed the rhythm of their attacks then quickly bobbed and weaved in between two of their swipes before bringing his heel down onto one's head, slamming its face into the ground and knocked it out. He then used the momentum his leg gained as it touched the ground and threw his body weight into a spin on that same leg as he let his other leg fly, the added power rammed into the back of the other dog's head which knocked it out upon impact. Then he crouched and kept his leg loose as it glided just above the ground as the remaining two dogs ran at him, sliding the leg through their combined 8 and sending them into the air. He then leaped high into the air with his knee raised as it plunged into the one of the dog's undersides before bring up his other leg and pushing off of the dog's body on his knee as if it were a platform, removing his knee by stretching it down just as the dog's body was sent plummeting as he went up then he swung his elbow into the other incoming dog's face, causing it to yelp out as it was sent sailing into the wall before sliding into the ground. Conan landed on the ground and looked at the dogs that got up again, they were hesitant but they were about to attack but then they made eye contact…

His eyes…those piercing, dangerous, blue green almond shaped eyes cut deep into their heart of hearts and their basic instincts got this sense of intense fear and unconquerability, more so than an alpha. It was as if this skilled opponent of theirs was choosing to keep them alive and conscious, as if he were….drawing it out almost. The dogs then slowly bowed their heads before him, paying him the respects that canines give their alpha leader.

Kraznys was absolutely shocked that Conan resurrected from his near-dead state but he did NOT expect for Conan to dominate the dogs to the point where they refused to attack him anymore, no matter how much prodding the animal masters gave. He then smirked…he would have an extremely strong Unsullied warrior in his command.

**2 Years Later**

Conan was on a boat as he reflected on the past two years, looking toward the West as the galleon he was on sailed in the direction.

_He did this as a routine. His will become that much stronger from his first experience with the dogs and decided it would be great practice. For 2 years, he didn't fail unless he wanted to, in which case he would continue fighting the dogs. Kraznys wanted to make it more challenging since he eventually caught on along with the rest of the Unsullied and got more bigger, faster, tougher and more vicious animals. He also became significantly better than the other Unsullied warriors, able to decimate swaths of their forces. He was the absolute worst sort of foe you could've found for the Unsullied; he adjusted his style so it became solo and unpredictable, allowing him to defeat multiple enemies in sync similar to the Unsullied. He became able to defeat 30, partly because he was able to incredibly used to their battle style. He had also taken up worship of the Lady of Spears along with the other Unsullied but refused to consume Wine of Courage, did not kill puppies and was sent to fight animals every time he refused. His last mission was to go to the marketplace, take a newborn baby slave from its mother and kill it in front of her then pay the slave owner for his loss._

_He got to the marketplace, took the baby just as it was pulled from its mother and looked at it with his intense, focused eyes. He gripped the knife in his hands tightly._

'This is it….all I need to do is kill this baby and I will become an elite soldier…finally_' thought Conan as the baby giggled at him and touched his face; its big, innocent eyes looking up at him as its soft skin felt around the slightly diminished baby fat in Conan's cheek, making his face more refined and skin tighter against his high cheekbones. Conan grit is teeth as if he were struggling internally as he raised the knife and the mother suddenly screamed. She had let it go this far because she had seen the boy and his actions, she had also heard talk of him all throughout Astapor. The Unsullied seem to have gotten more _alive _when he came and he was a do-gooder for many of the slaves. He fought against the oppression the slaves suffered and was punished with impossibly difficult physical tasks to break him, which worked in tandem with their attempts to make him forget his name. Every day for 2 years, they made him draw a new name completely by random; a color and a type of vermin. Very similar to his friend who, 2 years ago on the day of his recruitment, was named Grey Worm. They only referred to him by the name he picked and it almost worked but Conan's will bore through it all. He also was helped much by his comrades and the citizens of Astapor, namely the slaves. They all spread the word of his beliefs and he seemed to have inspired hope in all of them as he did the Unsullied. Whenever he walked through town, he would talk their ears off and they would listen intently. They all got a ray of hope that Conan gave them, it was because of him they could start smiling in the day since they were given the misfortune they had to deal with. _

_The mother had believed in him, but it seemed as if he had finally broken. She could understand; it just wasn't likely anyone could withstand such treatment for so long but it was amazing he had resisted for 2 years. However, she couldn't stand the sight of him about to take the life of her baby but then she suddenly stopped screaming and a smile played on Conan's lips which not dashed away all of her fears but she got a blush coming on at the beauty of a simple expression displayed on Conan's face. He suddenly looked at the slave owner with defiance and lunged as he began his assault on the man. _

"_I am NO soldier. I refuse to take anyone's orders or to kill; I am my own man. The man to be held atop the pantheon of warriors! I am Conan Battleborn!" He proclaimed with a battle cry; the shouting of his name symbolic for the fact he was defying being an Unsullied and finally proclaiming who he was proudly. He kicked, punched, headbutted, elbowed, kneed, sliced and diced all around him but he made sure to keep him alive. The man screamed intensely as he begged for mercy; he was now extremely wounded and bleeding but his attendants all looked at him in disgust when he begged them to help him. In the moments before his death…he saw the truth of his actions and how he ruined the lives of countless people. Fellow human beings such as himself but…but he didn't care. He was wealthy and ignorant, so it didn't bother him. He could plainly see just how alone in the world he was and he saw the anger and hostility in the 13 year old boy's vividly piercing eyes. Those eyes…though they were angry, they seemed reassuring and sort of…scolding, like when a parent is teaching you a lesson through pain. He was feeling warm inside; as if he were being given hope of a second chance but he figured it was his wishful thinking. He watched as Conan grinned deviously and raised the knife; he figured it was blood thirst, a ton of men had it but he could feel nothing as sadistic as blood lust. He then saw it come down and he closed his eyes as he belted out a cry._

_He then felt a searing pain that caused him to let loose a blood curdling scream because he was under the impression he was losing his life but aside from the pain, he heard a thud in between his legs._

'Wait…what?_' thought the slave owner before he opened his eyes slowly and saw those piercing, intensely focused, vivid deep blue-sea green eyes looking merciful and devious, he seemed…noble and kingly with a hint of trickster there. _

"_Did you think I would kill you? Haha, as if I would let you off so easily for toying with these people's lives. Plus it would go against my nature; I hate killing, its lazy, cowardly and the ultimate form of slavery. You making the decision whether someone lives or not; it is completely arrogant and utterly disgusting. I refuse to make that decision to let someone not only get away without being able to fix whatever mistakes they've made, to see people they want to see, and to accomplish dreams they want to achieve. Also; all other warriors just do it out laziness and fear because they feel if they don't kill their opponent, the foe will rise up stronger and fear they might not be enough the next time. As if they have already chosen they can't possibly grow any more. They relish in the power they feel from taking lives, a subtle God complex that they convince themselves of but they don't realize it. You shouldn't have to think it is too late to change your ways and be a positive change that other people actually enjoy being with," said Conan with an easygoing smile as he offered his hand to the man._

"_So what do you say?" he asked with his hand outstretched as the slave owner was completely baffled by this boy and his philosophy. With him, he wouldn't have to deal with the guilt if he didn't want to. He could make things right and not have to experience such a lonely and humbling experience like that again. He inherently knew almost everything he did was wrong because it was never really something he enjoyed per se except for the sadistic tendencies of his human nature, boredom and abundance of wealth but he only really did it to keep his position in Astapor. His wife rarely spoke to him, his servants all despised him and he had no friends. He wanted to be better than this; something about Conan's presence instilled him a sense of rebellion; in the sense that he did want to prove Conan that he was right to give him a second chance and to not succumb to such evils again. He wanted to prove to the sl-…no, _former _slaves that he wasn't the same man he used to be and they could rely on him. _

_Conan retracted his hand, he didn't need a handshake or even any spoken word of assurance. He could see the fire of conviction burning in the man's eyes and grinned broadly before chuckling a bit. _

"_I'll take that as a yes. I want you to realize by promising to take better care of these people and allow them the freedoms of human as you have, you have to abide by your word. Do not think I will hesitate to come back as soon as I hear you've reverted to your own ways and I will make sure you _suffer. _No matter how far it is, I will travel across seas and through mountains to make sure you will endure every waking moment in pure, utter agony when I finally get to you. Remember that this is not for me; it is for you and the people you owe debts to for the actions you committed against them," said Conan before he turned on his heel and left. _

Soon after all of that, he had to fight his way to prevent Kraznys by trying to punish him and complete the transformation into an Unsullied; the castration. He had bided his time to cut Conan but now he felt he had waited long enough.

_They were at the temple of the Lady of Spears with Conan standing at the top of the temple which was on "roof" of the temple per se, with the altar burning wildly. Every Unsullied in Astapor was at the foot of the temple below, looking up at Conan and Kraznys who had a knife and a sadistic grin plastered on his face because he would soon be getting his greatest soldier-slave. _

"_You have defied me for the last time! You will KNOW pain and obedience!" yelled Kraznys as he snapped and 4 stocky, obese Unsullied that were a part of Kraznys' personal Unsullied guard swung chains around before tossing them around his limbs. They internally were regretting doing this but they had to keep up the act so that they weren't punished later. What baffled them, though, was the fact they could feel no resistance on Conan's part. They were afraid he might try to fight or something but he stood completely still. _

_Conan was simply grinning at Kraznys which unnerved him to no end._

"_WHY ARE YOU SMILING!? YOU ARE GOING TO LOSE!" yelled the ridiculously fat man as his oiled black and red beard moved as the wind picked up. His whole face was as red as the streaks of his beard because of his accumulated frustration with the failures he had at Conan's hands to break him._

"_Heh…why do you look so nervous if you're going to win?" asked Conan smugly. The Unsulled up by the altar with them all were scared for Conan but they also couldn't help but wonder why he was so calm. He was usually so fiery with rebellion that it was mesmerizing but he was simply smiling and getting under Kraznys' skin with his cheek. But a part of them, which they considered illogical, still held some belief that Conan was going to be fine and that Kraznys' actions were even more proof of his final loss. They didn't know why they felt that way; false hope maybe because that's what they considered everything Conan stood for when he didn't resist the chains. _

_Kraznys smacked Conan but his hand stopped at his cheek because his strength wasn't even enough to force Conan's head to move. Conan just stared at him defiantly and smugly; the intensity of his eyes was causing Kraznys to start getting cold feet. He felt he should maybe not cut Conan because it seemed like he was in on a joke that no one else was. The fact that Conan was smiling and responding so cheekily and nonchalantly to threats and hits was absolutely terrifying the Good Master. And usually when someone is fearful, they tend to react violently and hatefully towards what they are scared of so Kraznys began to rain blows upon Conan's restrained body, though there was no bruising or anything really. Conan's body was now much more durable than 2 years ago and the likes of Kraznys could barely do anything to him when armed, let alone unarmed._

_Conan now stood proudly at 5'5" with broad shoulders, his tanned torso was now lean and muscular with two well formed, steely pecs followed by a still developing 6 pack but only 4 were completely shown though its seemed his torso was long enough to fit in another set with enough time and more training which was sure to come. His legs were well muscled and toned though it was all covered in flawless honey olive skin that clung to his leg muscles. His arms were now a little thin but still muscular; he was still a long way from his peak condition. He was definitely more muscular than an average 13 year old boy. He had definitely grown more beautiful facially though, what with the reduced baby fat in his cheeks and his eyelashes growing longer, lips fuller, thicker eyebrows though still elegant, bone structure stronger and more defined. His clarity of skin and facial symmetry was astounding and the envy of male and females alike. However, his almond shaped eyes became much more vivid, sparkling and mesmerizing in the blue mixed with a sea green, but the black pupil gained a minuscule white dot in the center which is actually light reflecting off of his pupil. __Just as Kraznys was finished striking him, he ripped off the traditional loincloth, which was given to all future Unsullied before they are cut, from Conan's legs which revealed his rather impressive endowment for a boy of his age. _

_The other Unsullied down below watched as clouds formed over them all which was strange as there was just a beautiful sunset taking place but it was snuffed out by dark clouds as the air suddenly became moist and humid. _

_Kraznys, on the other hand, was only focused on Conan's punishment and ordered his servant, Missandei, a translator he constantly had follow him everywhere, to grab Conan's cock and balls so he could sever them. Now Missandei was conflicted because she was good friends with Conan as he would always speak to her, smile at her and make jokes to her even when Kraznys was around. He helped to make her slavery to the fat man tolerable. Conan even knocked Kraznys out when he was drunk and tried to rape the girl. He had asked her to teach him many other languages he did not know which she enjoyed doing because he would purposely mess up the pronunciations or syllables in order to elicit a few giggles from her. She had even asked him to be the one to break her maidenhead on his 13__th__ name day which he protested because he believed she should save it for one who would love and cherish her more than he. However, she said it was her choice who she deemed worthy to do it and that she wanted Conan to. He had always subscribed to the idea of freedom and free will, so he decided to do it. He showed her the way of the seven sighs and sixteen seats of pleasure which made it a VERY memorable night. Any time she asked for another romp, he always refused because he said he only did it so that she wouldn't have her choice of who gets her maidenhead taken by some drunken oaf and because she was trying to use sex as an escape from her reality and he believed she was stronger than that which she both appreciated and hated. She was around 17 and very pretty with a round face with brown curly hair that she kept up in a high ponytail, beautiful light brown skin tone, round shaped eyes with a beautiful hazel color and full pink lips that made a man feel the blood go from his head to his other '_head_'. Her body was curvaceous, well proportioned and well endowed, so obviously it was hard for Conan to refuse sex from such a woman but he resisted the temptation of flesh. She was wondering if Conan was really broken because he hadn't tried anything to escape yet but he had that confident he always had when he was in battle. Was this some sort of personal test he was giving himself? On the other hand, she was being ordered to touch the boy's cock and that was something she didn't mind doing at all but in doing so she would be betraying her dear friend._

_Conan saw her struggle with this and flashed a bright smile to reassure her that it was okay for her to do so, as he didn't want her to get punished. He then made it a seductive smirk complete with a wink that did nothing to help her burning loins when she saw his cock again and thought of their night together. _

"_NOW, BITCH!" screamed Kraznys as he walked over to her and pushed her in Conan's direction and she fought back the urge to give him a glare and retort, which she always did. This was part of why Conan spoke with her so often was because of her strong will despite being a woman in the service of such a powerful man. She slowly made her way over to Conan, stopping in front of him as she shot him a smirk of her own. She brought up her hand, licking her palm and fingers in one fluid motion before she bent down slightly to grab his cock at the base and slowly slid her wet, warm and soft hand down the length of the thick appendage. Just the sight of her licking her hand caused blood to rush to his cock but her grabbing it in such a sudden fashion with the hand in its current state made for a growing Conan. _

_Missandei was feeling pride as her hand slid down the smooth shaft, stopping when she had the tip firmly in her grasp. She could feel the throbbing and the growing of his cock in her hand but she heard Kraznys' footsteps going in the opposite direction to the table full of sharp knives so she made her teasing subtle by sliding her closed hand around the tip over and over as if she was jiggling a doorknob with grease on it. Conan grit his teeth as his breathing became hitched but he refused to give her this win before leaning his lips against her ear before slowly opening his mouth, causing his lower lip to drag across her ear which sent a shiver down her spine as she bit back a moan when she felt her ear enveloped in intense, warm air that made it even more sensitive to touch which Conan took advantage of as he let his warmer, wet tongue slightly touch the dip of cartilage that led to the hole of the ear. This made Missandei groan through her pursed lips as he slowly dragged his tongue along the curves of her ear, dipped it into the hole briefly which made her groan even louder and tighten her grip around his cock which caused him to moan, causing his tongue to vibrate which in turn sent the vibrations through her ear. Missandei begun to feel her lose her bearings of where she was and her ability to stand as he trailed his tongue along the outside of her ear causing her to groan both out of agonizing pleasure and minor irritation because she missed the warm appendage in her ear. He then pursed his lips around her ear lobe and bit it quickly but not too hard which caused her to squeal but thanks to her control, she managed to keep it only audible between her, Conan and the 4 Unsullied behind him who didn't know how to handle the sight before them because they had little to no testosterone to get them excited. _

_Conan then retreated his head and looked at Missandei with a solemn look, which to Kraznys who was walking towards them now, looked as if he had told her something in her ear to help steel her will. Kraznys finally got beside Missandei and looked down at Conan's appendage, jealous of the boy's own gift which made him even more happy to castrate it but he did notice Missandei's reddened cheeks and her hazel eyes filled with lust as she stared at Conan who simply kept up his solemn visage but his growing erection in Missandei's hand did not lie._

"_Heheh…say good bye to your cock, boy!" screamed Kraznys as he raised his knife which was unnecessarily big for the job but then, as if by fate or some higher power, the clouds above which had surges of lightning dance around in it struck Kraznys' raised knife arm with a powerful pillar that was surging from cloud through the metallic knife into all of the precious metals decorating his fine clothes. Conan saw that Kraznys was losing his life and losing it fast, everything seemed to slow down for him and he then decided to stop playing around and easily sent a punch flying into Kraznys' face that sent him out of the path of the pillar, so it just surged into Conan's arm which in turn caused the Unsullied at the other end of the chain to be electrocuted while also flying towards Conan's back because of his immense strength which was used when he pulled against the Unsullied's strength easily. _

"_AAAGGGGHH!" Conan yelled as he saw his life flash before his eyes and he suddenly felt his will to survive, win and endure surge through him stronger than the lightning and leapt up then brought his feet down on the links of metal in the chain around his ankles, which shattered them before circling his arms in the opposite direction the chains were wrapped in order to unwrap them, releasing the Unsullied. _

_Everyone present felt an indomitable and powerful force as Conan seemed to scream louder and louder as he had lightning shoot through him for several minutes. _

"_I REFUSE TO LOSE TO THIS MEASLY LIGHTNING! AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" There was something ancient and…arcane… about Conan's presence which the Unsullied could only compare to the way they felt when they were in possession of Valyrian steel. The unique and ancient alloy always boasted this feeling of mystery, wonder and ancient power, it was similar to Conan's current air. Conan suddenly stopped feeling the lightning as pain and it became more…empowering in a way. However, he felt his battle hungry nature surge through him suddenly and he struck out against the lightning flow which suddenly sent a powerful cry of thunder that caused everyone's hands to go to their ears as the pillar dissipated simultaneously. Conan was then tossed into the burning altar by the recoil of the strike, which suddenly caused a united scream to elicit from Missandei and every Unsullied there as they were worried for their dear friend and leader figure. _

_All anyone could see was the blazing inferno that rose high into the air though contained within the altar. The Unsullied all were simply shocked by what they had witnessed. Conan had not only overpowered the physically strongest of their ranks with the heaviest chains they could find which should've broken his arms as they wrapped around them as if he hadn't been chained at all but he had saved Kraznys and the four Unsullied guards before taking on the lightning himself as if it were some sort of opponent. Then he endured the lightning when other people might have gone unconscious or died then literally _struck_ lightning somehow and stopped it. Now he ended up burning to death…._

_And that's how Conan lived. The End. _

_SIIIKE!_

_Suddenly a silhouette appeared that contrasted with the brightness of the fire. The fire seemed to be contorting and moving more fluidly, similar to ocean waves as if something had quelled its chaotic movement before. Conan then walked with the fire parting as the flames licked his back and heels almost as if they were making way for him then touching his back and heels as if to say it was supporting Conan. There was a thin layering of soot covering his naked body but he hoped off of the altar onto the temple roof then looked at the entirety of his body._

"_Not a single burn…? But how…?" muttered Conan then Missandei rushed up to him and hugged him._

"_Conan! I almost thought you were dead! Thank the gods!" she exclaimed as she buried her head in the crook of his neck and sobbed. He then wrapped his arms around her and smiled before letting loose a chuckle._

"_I'm hurt you would have so little faith in me, Missandei…" said Conan teasingly before she pulled back slightly to look at him before swatting at his face which hit him as he chuckled before he pouted, thus eliciting a chuckle on her part._

"_Idiot! No normal person could survive what you just did!" screamed Missandei as Conan rolled his eyes with a cheeky smirk._

"_Who said I was normal? No normal person is going to become the greatest warrior to ever live and I refuse to die until then," said Conan as if it were as obvious as saying the sun rose in daytime and the moon at nighttime. Missandei smiled as she found his unshakeable faith in his dreams amazing and inspiring even if it made him say things like that but then again…why was it so wrong to want to do the impossible? In her experience, all those who scolded others about such aspirations were either people who were broken by hardship, those who didn't have the will to continue trying to achieve their goals, people who were afraid of other people's progress or people who made excuses for their laziness to go above and beyond the norm. Conan was the only person she knew to have such a crazy dream and one so filled with freedom of others, freedom for himself, glory, hard work, diligence, discipline and nobility as he wanted to help others as well and not solely use it for fun battles._

_Conan then helped the 4 Unsullied up who were covered in some burns due to the indirect lightning strike but they were more or less okay because they could feel no pain of the burns. One of the Unsullied down below darted up the steps of the temple and sprinted to the top of the high rooftop. It was Grey Worm, although his name wasn't Grey Worm now, that's the name Conan always referred to him as and the name Grey Worm preferred and cherished._

"_My Friend! Are you okay?!" asked Grey Worm as he placed his arm on Conan's shoulder, a look of panic and shock on his face. Conan smiled, knowing he helped the Unsullied regain their emotions, especially Grey Worm._

"_Yeah Grey Worm, I'm fine heh. I'm strong," he said boastfully as he flexed his arms which Grey Worm smirked at playfully in a rare show of emotion that only happened when he was around Conan and Missandei, giving him a break from his usual stoic expression. _

"_You could have fooled this o-me," said Grey Worm, he was still in the habit of referring to himself in third person as was Missandei. They were subject to years of torment to lose their sense of self, though Missandei is doing better because she was just a regular slave, Grey Worm had it worse off but he was slowly improving._

"_Look who's developed a sense of humor haha," said Conan as he punched the soldier's arm playfully with a cheeky smirk. _

"_I wish I could say the same to you," he said with a laugh as he punched Conan's shoulder. The two laughed like the best friends they were, as if Conan wasn't just about to get castrated a couple minutes ago._

"_So what are you going to do now?" asked Missandei and the two stopped laughing though Conan still had a grin._

"_I guess I'll be taking my leave. People to meet, places to go and opponents whose asses need kicking," said Conan with a grin. "Why don't you all come with me?" he asked._

"_I'm sorry, Conan, but you said we all have to follow our dreams and I am not ready to leave yet. I want to stay and help protect my fellow Unsullied brothers through the hardships of the Good Masters. I dream one day I will be able to serve a righteous master, perhaps you will come back one day and lead us as king. I want nothing more than to live and serve in a society where you would rule," said Grey Worm looking at his friend with admiration and respect balanced with bittersweet farewell._

"_That is an amazing dream, Grey Worm. However, I am not a king by any means nor do I want to be. The only lands I will rule are all battlefields as the King of Battle! I am the king and army. One day, I will come back for all of you so you don't have to deal with this bastard ever again but I refuse to do it now then just leave you all with no clue of what to do. There's nothing worse he can do to you all as long as you can keep your wills strong. It looks to me as that won't be a problem and you already know how Kraznys works so there won't be anything to fear," said Conan which Grey Worm and Missandei both nodded as the Unsullied screamed in unison to agree with him. as he suddenly leapt off of the temple and caught the edge of another rooftop as his feet connected to the side of the building as he climbed up, he then began to run across rooftops to the Unsullied barracks as every Astapori citizen watched the nimble youth soar over their heads and perform incredibly dexterous acrobatics before he curled into a ball in mid-air and sailed into an open window in the barracks. He then ran through the building before going up one flight of steps and going to his sleeping quarters before donning a white shirt that resembled a modern day Henley _**(AN: For those that don't know, it's those collarless shirts with the buttons on the chest)**_, tan pants tucked into black boots before donning his white cloak, bag full of equipment and his weapons. By that time, Kraznys had awoken from his lightning-induced unconsciousness and had ordered the Unsullied to find Conan._

_Conan had been hopping along the rooftops when he heard a faint whistling sound in the air before looking to the side and intercepting a mid-flight spear by the wooden pole just before the spearhead. He spinned it in his hands expertly before using it to knock away or chop through incoming spears from the Unsullied soldiers. While they wanted Conan to do what he wanted, they also wanted him to stay with them and help them which is why they decided Conan would have to earn his right by fighting them at their full disciplined might. Conan accepted the challenge as he leapt from the rooftop at the Unsullied below who were marching through the streets in unison below, they threw spears at him thinking he would be vulnerable in the air but he showcased his suppleness of motion even when airborne by maneuvering around the spears while simultaneously kicking off of them to propel him faster towards the center of their formation before he began to spin the spear while spinning like a top, watching them analytically as they struck out at him with their spears in a panic, not knowing what to do in the situation and he spun his spear into the tips of theirs using both his spearhead and the staff end to sweep their spears into each other before rapidly thrusting at them with the staff end using their opening left by their attack attempts as a way to knock them back into vendors and the buildings walls or knocking them out with a powerful stamp to the head. He then charged forward, swinging his spear in wide but rapid sweeps that the Unsullied in the front lines blocked with their shields. Not wanting to lose momentum, he then wrapped his left leg around his right and spun while crouching before using the staff of his spear to trip all but those with the firmest stance. He then ran full speed before leaping and positioning his body horizontally in mid-air as he allowed his dead weight along with the weight of his cloak, armor on the inside and his equipment to ram into those soldiers' shields causing their arms to buckle and the inside of the shields to ram into their heads and torsos that knocked them down and either dazed them or knocked them unconscious. He then pressed his arms as if doing a push up on the soldier furthest to the left who's shield his upper body rested on, causing his body to be pushed up right on the opposite soldier to the right's shield while the soldier on the left was pushed faster to the ground then the others due to the Conan's push during his mid-fall. Conan then leapt from the right soldier's shield, which caused him to fall as fast as the other soldier while he propelled himself into another rank of Unsullied's shields which he landed on feet first before running along the front line's shields, adding significant power to his steps to propel them directly into the soldier behind them to impede their advance. He then landed on the ground before darting through the openings of the first and second line as the rest decided to draw their short swords. Conan easily slapped his hands on either side of one soldier's blade before jerking it in the opposite direction he was swinging it which caused the soldier to let go anyway regardless of Conan's superior strength. He then took the short sword in his left hand and then turned his body sideways before nimbly moving about the street, dancing and weaving around their attacks while using his sword to quickly strike different parts in their sword's anatomy which redirected their efforts elsewhere like the ground, a wall, a fellow soldier's helmet or sword, he then tossed the spear in his other hand before gliding his sword along the length of another sword before spiraling it around it along the way then slipping the tip in between the hilt and the soldier's hand like a water stream before catching the blade in a reverse grip and spun his body on his heel before slamming the flats of both blades into the side of that same soldier's head, knocking him out. He pinned two soldier's swords in between his arms and hips due to the armor underneath then leapt up and slammed both of his feet into their faces propelling them backward while breaking their noses. He rarely got cuts due to his nimbleness, evasion abilities of the Water Dance, memorization of their tactics and his armor. He got some cuts on his cheek and neck but nothing that wouldn't heal but only the most skilled managed to get through the armor's protection and cut his torso. He then allowed himself to defend and evade to rest as he didn't want to be too lost in his assault and make a careless mistake or something that would be miraculously defended by his armor. He had to do this skillfully or not at all. He kept stepping around their attacks and started pressing up into a wall as he rested against it while his arms worked tirelessly to keep outmaneuvering their blades before he leapt high up into the air, over their heads before kicking off of the wall behind him and landing behind them in a crouch. They all spinned around while simultaneously swinging their blades to catch him on their blades but they didn't realize he was crouched before he balanced himself on his knuckles stretched his legs out, showcasing his impressive flexibility to do an upside down split before spinning himself around and around, his legs sweeping powerfully into their heads as they spun around, knocking them on their backs painfully, down and out before they hit the ground. Conan then hit underneath a vendor with a cloth to regain his energy. Luckily, it was a vendor filled with all sorts of meat and bread which he began to devour ravenously to fill his growling stomach. He managed to find some cheese and kept combining them as sandwiches or eating them separately. He could hear the Unsullied and the Astapori soldiers running through the streets. After 20 minutes of eating, he leapt from behind the vendor, startling the patrolling soldiers and clotheslined them with the flats of his two stolen blades. He then took from their pouches to find lots of gold and a flask of wine which he used to wash down the food. He left some gold on the vendor which shivering, scared owner was also hiding behind during those 20 minutes._

"_Thanks for the food! I was starving all morning, mister!" said Conan with a grin as the man smiled back, forgetting his fright at the sight of the boy's easygoing grin and his laidback attitude despite all of the soldiers after him. Conan then scaled the buildings and got as close as the gate leading out of Astapor but it closed by the time he landed in front of it. He was then surrounded by Unsullied, Astapori soldiers and the Good Masters who were in carriages being held up by slaves on the roofs of several buildings so it looked as if they were all seated gods looking down on warring humans. The pompous bastards…._

_The soldiers all gave a cry then charged Conan as he also gave a powerful cry filled with his intense emotion and willpower which matched their combined screams. This disheartened many of the soldiers as they saw just how much of a fight he was going to be giving as well as the forces he had already taken out and this loss of morale ended up reflecting in their assault which caused many of them to get sucked into the whirling dervish of sword and spear strikes and sweeps that slipped through their attacks and struck at their openings fast or simply dominated their offense/defense and took them out that was Conan. In about an hour, he was sitting amongst 100 unconscious Unsullied and Astapori warriors as he panted heavily, if it wasn't for the fact that he had eaten immensely, rested and many soldiers' attempts were halfhearted at best, it would've taken much longer to take this number out alone. He then glared down at the rest as they all looked on in utter shock. Last time Conan was only able to take out 40 men consecutively but he had managed to more than double that in the heat of the moment. The Good Masters were in utter shock that their men were being felled like that by one man…one boy! _

"_DAMMIT YOU SHITS! HE IS ONLY ONE BOY, HE HAS NO MAGIC, NO ACCOMPLICES AND NO OTHER WEAPONS! HE IS JUST ONE BOY!" screamed Kraznys, now terrified and angry as the realization of his own words sunk in. What would happen if he were to leave and grow in several years? Kraznys found himself in utter fear now that the concept filled his head and he couldn't move his hands or even find his voice._

_He then ran towards the gate while picking up and throwing as many swords and spears at the gate, each one impaling itself into it higher and higher. _

_Grey Worm and Missandei both smirked when he suddenly leaped onto the lowest sword's hilt and began hopping from sword to sword, grabbing onto the spear before spinning around it and throwing himself to other spears and continuing the process. _

_The Astapori shot arrows and the Unsullied threw their spears but their linear attacks were no match for Conan's agility before he eventually sent himself soaring high above the gate while catching an incoming sword almost not seeing the one following it closely behind which he tapped with the first sword before snatching it out of the air. He then fell down the other side of the gate, stabbing both swords into the gate as he fell to slow himself down before using them as climbing pikes to get down. He got to the ground rather quickly right about when they began opening the gates._

_He slowly ran to the side where the gate door wouldn't reach then waited, knowing there would be expectations of seeing him running across the desert. He was too tired to actually do it so he waited patiently and as he expected, Astapori cavalry rode out at full speed on their mounts to catch Conan but they could not find him. Conan, in a final burst of energy, pushed himself to catch up to one of the horses in the back, used to racing against horses, then leapt up and kangaroo kicked the rider into another rider while simultaneously grabbing the reigns to make sure he didn't lose the horse while he was airborne and landed on the saddle. He then saw a pouch on its side and searched it with one hand, finding a map some gold, a bottle of wine and a large piece of meat on a bone. Satisfied, Conan then drew his Dothraki arakh and his Dothraki blood rushed to the surface as he out-rode each Astapori soldier while swiftly knocking them out of their horses by clotheslining them with the inward stroke of the sword acting as a hook and maneuvering it deftly as it cut one soldier across the chest, causing him to fall while Conan outstretched his sword arm which clotheslined a rider in between them while he turned outstretched blade so that he could hook the curve around a rider on the other side of the first soldier farthest from him and pull him off of his saddle. _

_This continued until he was one of the few left mounted and he decided to simply ride his horse out past them and continued riding after he passed them. By then, most of them were nursing wounds and the others were simply too afraid or too tired to keep pursuing, which they also found pointless because he rode like a Dothraki horselord. _

_After that day, Conan was talked about as a legend and a heroic figure to give their Astapori children hope and aspirations for the future. He was known as "Unsullied by Fire" in their tongue for the events that took place on the day of escape as well as his nickname in Meereen "Unscarred Back". The Unsullied called him the advocate and incarnation of the Lady of Spears. Grey Worm and Missandei revealed his Dothraki heritage and how he was the khalakka to the largest khalasar seen since the days of Khal Temmo during the Century of Blood. They all began to call him the "the Stallion That Will Mount the World" and "Prince of Warriors and Horses". These names and his tales spread like wildfire throughout Essos and the Dothraki rejoiced for their respective "prince that was promised". _

_**With Khal Drogo**_

"_Hmph…this are merely rumors. I will not believe these impersonations of my son! They are nothing more than lies!" said the khal irrationally as he was still recovering from the loss of his pride and joy. He had never recovered but he had hoped that this Westerosi princess who Magister Illyrio Mopatis said was the most beautiful exotic woman in the world which is what Drogo requested in order to take as a khaleesi in order to produce another heir, hopefully anything that even closely resemble his first._

"_Perhaps, my khal….but perhaps they speak the truth and it is your son?" suggested Rakharo about his childhood friend, Conan. Rakharo had been a prodigy just like Conan and had quickly become the youngest blood-rider in Dothraki history and the youngest blood-rider of Khal Drogo's khalasar._

"_Don't be ridiculous, Rakharo! The khalakka was taken by the poison water, there is no way he could survive. And without the wooden horses of the Free Cities" said Cothollo _

"_Why do we even want that strange boy back…?" asked Mago. Drogo never liked him much because he always undermined his authority on little things and was obviously after Khal Drogo's position but he knew he couldn't fight him and win so all he did was insult him indirectly by going for every opening against his son._

"_Hold your tongue, Mago…or I will rip it out myself…" said Khal Drogo with his forest green eyes narrowed dangerously that everyone believed he might have actually gotten up and done it if Mago said anything else but Mago who was the most unnerved bit down on his tongue and looked down in fear._

'Weak willed coward…my six year old boy was more of a man and warrior than Mago has been all his life'_ thought Khal Drogo as he went back to his nostalgia of Conan._

**With Conan**

_After 2 weeks of rationing out the food he had and swiped from the pouches of the Astapori soldiers with his quick hands and the pickpocketing he picked up from Jaqen as well as befriending fellow travelers who shared with him due to his charismatic nature, he managed to get to Yunkai where he paid to board a boat going to northern Westeros._

_Flashback Over_

Conan stopped thinking of the past few weeks before he looked across the sea and felt the air become rather crisp. He wasn't used to it but he could get used to it and it would provide another good training opportunity.

He was told they were at the Iron Islands. He remembered reading about them and realized they were very similar to his people, the Dothraki. He walked through the docks of the place and saw many rough, scruffy looking men sneering and glaring at him as he walked by. Many of the women around looked at him with lustful smirks and they were being way too easy by motioning for him to come forward, though many of them were pretty.

Conan smirked but then felt several presences moving close to him and he decided to humor them as he watched the Ironborn men surround him.

"Aye…lookie here, boys, we got ourselves a pretty lady…" said a hulking man with little to no teeth left, a lot of dirt layering his face and stringy brown hair in a heavy northern accent which he could tell because not all of the syllables in the words were being pronounced. They all carried Westerosi sea faring cutlasses and sabers which they started to brandish.

"I'm sorry, mister. We can't all look like shit," said Conan as he held back his smirk as the man's friends laughed at his expense.

"He got y'a there, Brandon!" said one of them followed with a laugh.

"Shut up! You all look no better! And I'll have you know I look this way from all the battles I've been in, I've won several of them and reaped countless spoils!" said Brandon

"Huh...I guess surviving battles is almost as commendable as winning them but that's no excuse to look like you use your face as fishing bait for sharks," said Conan while trying to suppress his own laughter but then suddenly Brandon lifted up Conan by his neck then leaned his face closer to Conan's.

"Boy, you haven't seen the battles I have. You are probably some little prissy noble boy from Essos who thought he would look tough with all those weapons on him. Well, you came to the wrong place to visit boy! Here in the Iron Islands, we Ironborn reap what we do not sow! It is our right by strength, fire, blood and steel! You should learn to pick your battles better, this one isn't going to end nicely for you..." Brandon boasted as his friends all began cheering him on and laughing at Conan's expense.

"Haha as if you weaklings could do anything, you guys probably only go for the small fish. I knew men that would eat you bastards up and pick their teeth with your bones. I've been around better versions of you since I was born, stop talking as if you guys could take me," said Conan with a nonchalant expression. The men all scowled and shot him death glares before they began to look bloodthirsty and sadistic. Brandon leaned in closer to Conan's face with a smirk.

"Maybe your ears don't work so well, aye...?" questioned Brandon, his breath filling Conan's highly trained nose which caused him to gag.

"Gah...too bad my nose works just fine," Conan said cheekily as Brandon's smirk immediately flipped upside down when he heard the jab.

"Why you little..." he said as he began to cock back his fist but just as he was about to let loose, something too fast for him to realize was moving slammed into his face with such ferocity that it felt as if his entire face was going to cave in but only his nose broke as he immediately lost his bearings and let go, the only thing he saw was pure white as he felt back at such high speeds that his back broke several of the wooden boards they were standing on as his body threatened to fall through the entirety of the hole and into the sea below.

The other Ironmen looked on in awe and fear, feeling the overwhelming presence of his passive "alpha" nature and indomitable will as they had never seen a person look so comfortable, at home and with so much inner peace while looking equally thrilled, fierce, and hungry as Conan did as he stood over Brandon, his shoulders broad and back straight with his raised arm tensed and hand balled up, a little blood was on his knuckles as his vivid aquamarine eyes were set in an intense, focused gaze on Brandon. Just so...hungry; an unprecedented hunger for pure battle that they'd never seen before. Usually when they wanted a battle, it was a thirst for what was to come if they win; riches, women, food, wine, more boats, glory, or the thrill of killing. However, the type exhibited by Conan seemed like a need for battle that nothing else would be able to satiate and had a look of satisfying release, similar but not exactly like after sex, it was like fighting was to him what sex is to normal people. Except his release was not just all the irritation at the horrible temper he had accumulated from the shit he had undergone. Now, his willpower was strong to endure all that crap and had grown even stronger but nothing is without its consequences.

He had developed an intense, ungodly anger whenever it was unleashed which was usually during battle. He also developed a deep sense of self loathing and a dangerously low sense of self worth, in the sense he didn't care about pleasure for himself whether it be insisting unusually vehemently for a woman to not even touch him as he pleases her, giving someone the clothes off of his back, the food he has or money on his person. But almost was the key word because of the dreams he had for himself of being the greatest warrior and to become worthy of the title of hero, his immense desire to protect people at the cost of himself but he would always keep enough so that he was at least taken care of minimally but if possible, he would try to split it so both parties could indulge, and his will to never back down or allow himself to be dominated by anyone whether will-wise or combat-wise. To this end, he continued Jaqen's tolerance training that he started 7 years ago with taking small dosages of many poisons and allowing his immune system to adjust to them. For 7 years straight, he upped the dosage to higher and higher quantities so he had an unnaturally high resistance to poisons and many illnesses in general, illnesses he caught during his slave years which he got constantly due to the completely awful living conditions but he kept pushing forward and his body compensated almost as if it were responding to his literal refusal to die until he accomplished his dreams so now he can be in the personal space of a ton highly contagious sick people but he'd be perfectly fine, which in combination with his excellent physical condition indicated Conan would be living long and healthy if he didn't die in combat. It was actually amazing to see the magnitude of change that unshakable faith, determination, love for life and optimism brought about when someone truly wanted something deep in their heart and soul.

Anyways, it was the tempered, but still ungodly anger that was also seen in his face that almost petrified them in fear...they had never seen rage like that in a human ever. They likened it to a raging storm that tossed their ships around and threatened their very lives with those deadly, tenacious waves or the fury of their Drowned god etched into the face of this...this...boy. They couldn't help but feel respect of his gall and ability to take down the physically strongest and sound of them all with a single blow and looked as if he would take on the entire Islands if they tried to do something like that to him again. And anyone willing and loving battle in such a fashion with such a capacity for rage was someone they could respect.

"Forgive us; we never realized what sort of man we were dealing with..." said one of the Ironmen who looked honestly cautious and awe inspired. "Wh-who are you?"

Conan looked at them with a focused, piercing gaze that tore right through their defenses right into their very being, unnerving them even more. He was done hiding his heritage plus he had no reason to hide from people almost, if not just as bad as the Dothraki.

"I am a Dothraki prince of a khalasar 40,000 strong, I've been all around Essos to grow stronger so that I may one day become the greatest warrior in the world. Remember my name because it will become the Light that will one day guide you all through the Night, the blazing Fire to keep you warm and hopeful during the coming Winter and the Sword to smite the terrors that creep about in the Dark. Mine is of Strength, Honor, Loyalty, Faith, Determination, Rebellion, Willpower, Blood, Sweat, Freedom and Hope. I have come to Westeros to learn and grow...it is here, on this continent which calls for the need of my services. My name is Conan Battleborn!" he said, his usual dramatic flair present in his self-introduction. Now usually, the Ironmen would've laughed at anyone who made such a dramatic speech but the amount of conviction and sheer belief in his very being started to make them believe it.

For a couple of weeks, they showed Conan around and he was met with several brawls and scuffles, but he eventually managed to gain the respect of the general population, even Brandon. The Northmen were funny like that, once you proved your "stones", so to speak, they would respect you, no matter who you are. Conan loved that about them as he knew he would, he loved much of the Northern Westerosi culture and felt a little at home with the Ironmen. They helped him learn naval warfare extensively, but more of how to quickly close the distance between ships and how to maneuver your close quarter combat on the constantly moving and shifting ships while using the environment to your advantage which he loved to do. He figured he was a natural sailor, probably stemming from his love of freedom and desire to go to different places. Plus, the Dothraki had always referred to ships as "wooden horses" so as a Horselord, it would bring shame to his people if he could not tame this "stallion". Despite how quickly they got along, Conan also vehemently opposed their traditions and any time they would go out to reave, rape and pillage, he would go and destroy their efforts by fighting against them. Many of them were undisciplined riff raff that mostly took advantage of people that couldn't defend themselves so it was even easier than he thought to dispatch numbers of them. Their countless and humiliating defeats at the hands of Conan got so bad that they implemented the tradition that no reaving or raiding shall take place whenever Conan visits the Iron Islands or is passing through the object of their raiding. Conan got a good laugh and despite their sore attitudes, it was quickly mended over wine and a party. Eventually Conan began traveling towards Winterfell on foot and he began to get used to the cold. He started doing his most extreme training exercises both in full heavy gear and completely naked so that he could gain control over his internal body temperatures. His meditation time increased even more so that he can one day master this aspect of his body. He also did several of the exercises in the freezing waters even submerged. He would stay in there for prolonged periods of time to get a feel for it while meditating or go through the motions extremely slow in order to build up his endurance. He also began to fight against the mountain clans of the Vale which were no challenge in themselves, but they were definitely good practice for combat in the cold which was all he cared for.

His ability to adapt especially in combat was astounding. It was scary and awe inspiring at how one's mind when set on something and intensely focused on it could get such results from your body like that. He had begun fighting in the cold as if he were born in it; easily maneuvering in the impeding temperature after several weeks of fighting mountain clansmen, bandits, and the occasional wildling group. He had been hearing more and more from the wildlings that "Winter is Coming", getting Conan excited that it might mean the White Walkers were returning. He also became a little upset because many lives would be lost to their undead armies and spider mounts. On the plus side, his name was getting more and more recognized in the North but many believed he was a newly rising Northern urban legend to dampen the britches of women and inspire awe, honor, and chivalry in men because it just wasn't common for strangers to protect small village residents who were being terrorized by the raiders for no reason especially strangers who was said to have such uncommon physical features and the martial skills to take on the Stark princes of Winterfell who were trained all their lives by the renowned Ser Rodrik Cassel. It just didn't add up to many of them; a teenage boy with olive skin which was especially impossible in the North; a thick, refined, flowing curtain of darkened brown hair that fell into curling bangs that framed his face and was groomed and squared off on the sides except the mane of hair hanging over it, obscuring it from view; thick, elegant eyebrows over almond shape eyelids with heavy, black, long and curled eyelashes on both lids that seemed feminine with large and bright, intense, focused blue-sea green eyes irises encircling the strong, deep, entrancing black pupils in between the lids. Apparently, part of the reason people didn't believe it was because Conan's eye color was a bright aquamarine color while Northmen usually had fair skin and brown, black or grey eyes with some exceptions like the current Stark children with Tully blood. Conan had met a Magister during his time as an employee at the brothel in Meereen who, as he waited to be served by one of the fine women, educated Conan about what Magisters do and his particular medical studies, particularly oral care. He showed Conan how to concoct a special paste when applied to the teeth and gums with a miniature brush would kill much bacteria and other germs in the mouth that are left there by the food we eat and just in general, allowing for one to maintain healthy, white teeth with good-looking gums. At first, the taste of the paste was immensely bitter which took a heavy toll on his heightened taste and his gums bled a lot due to the unfamiliar brushing sensation against them but he managed to add some mint leaves that gave it a pleasantly cool, refreshing flavor and after some persistence, his gums stopped bleeding and his oral care was on point. Sadly, the process to synthesize this paste was hard and rather complicated; it took Conan thirty some attempts to get it and it was only financially available to nobles which was part of the reason why their smiles were always so good, if they didn't have crooked teeth. However, none of them had the flavor of Conan's, so the nobles all had to endure the bitter taste but Conan decided he would make it his one business venture as a way to show he wasn't just some brute and to get some money. Overall, he was thought to be some descendant from the Children of the Forest and one of the First Men because such beauty especially in men like he was described to be was only heard of in the legends of the Children.

Speaking of the devil, he had just woken up from his sleep against a tree but he kept his eyes closed as he contemplated. Lately he had been having...strange dreams to say the least. It all started when he spent his first night in the woods and he felt as if there were a thousand eyes all staring at him. When he looked around, for a split second, he thought there were multiple red eyes staring at him but in the same instance, they disappeared. Then he heard cawing which, when he looked in its direction, was a three-eyed crow. He felt something ancient, dark and powerful about the crow but upon his next blink, it was gone. He had been having dreams of 7 direwolves in varying sizes mourning over a smaller wounded direwolf while lions hid from the shadows...a stag that had a horn lodged in its throat...and of black ravens in a land of constant snow. Last night he viewed them from the perspective of a horse and he ran through forests that resembled the ones he was currently in, then find a feminine direwolf running from a rampaging bear. Then as the direwolf was cornered, he, the Stallion, ran in between them and he would glower intensely at the bear with a fierce neigh as he brought his hooves to stomp into its right paw, breaking its claws from off of it. The bear would wail in agony then suddenly bow, similar to how a subject bows before a lord, before leaving almost...respectfully. He opened his eyes and there were the remnants of a campfire and the bones of his dinner from the night before. He cursed the bright sun, though not as prominent up north, it was still a bright light that put a strain on his enhanced vision every time he awoke. After cursing the sun, he got rid of the evidence of his presence there while paying his respects to the Old gods for the peaceful sleep in their domain and the meal as he had been doing ever since he ventured off towards Winterfell.

In fact, just two weeks ago, it was because of his faith and his refusal to kill unless hungry that during his journey through the Neck, these qualities combined with his trained sensory capabilities helped him gain the respect of a crannogman who had heard tale of Conan and when he saw someone who matched the description, he had to see it. The crannogman called himself Jojen Reed, a short, slim, barely adolescent boy with thick, shaggy brown hair, pale skin and a gaunt face who was a year younger than him with unusually deep, forest almost emerald green eyes and green-colored clothing. He looked wiser than his age suggested though. Conan could see it in his eyes and feel it in the way he carried himself. He and his older sister, Meera who was two years his senior and very pretty with long brown hair, jade green eyes, fair skin; short and slender in stature with an athletic build that suggested she got physical. She moved like a huntress, which Conan appreciated. She was flat-chested and wore green-clothing while carrying a three-prong frog spear and shield on her back.

They had explained to him how they heard of him, thinking he might be one of the children actually and apparently, Jojen had a dream of him which helped lead them to him.

Flashback

"Geez, you hadn't even met me and you were already dreaming about me? I can't say I blame you, though I must say I'm a little disappointed it wasn't your sister," said Conan with a wisecracking grin to which Jojen laughed and Meera's face flushed before she punched his arm with impressive power. "Damn woman, that was a compliment! I'd hate to see what you'd do if I told you I thought you were pretty," he said with a scowl at first but it quickly turned into a smirk as he finished his statement and Meera simply blushed in embarrassment...then smacked him.

"You really need to work on your violent nature, I thought women on this continent were supposed to be gentle..." he said with a mumble as he rubbed his cheek before ducking under a spear thrust, his body having moved out of reflex. "Crazy woman..." he said. Meera, for one, was both beaming (on the inside) and surprised, the boy was more beautiful than the stories suggested and to hear he considered her very attractive was flattering since she wasn't paid too many compliments on her womanly attributes in the crannogmen society. But she hadn't expected such trained reflexes from a boy his age and at such a degree, she hadn't believed some of the tale that he was a Dothraki prince who had wandered from his tribe but from she heard of the combat-oriented people, she was starting to believe it.

"Sorry to interrupt this lovely banter but I was wondering about your eyes. Have they always been like that or..?" asked Jojen as he walked up to Conan and stood on the tip of his toes to look into his eyes.

"Dreaming about me...getting lost into my eyes...sounds like a bad bard song. But yeah, they have," said Conan deciding to be cooperative. Jojen seemed to be critically examining Conan, which sort of creeped him out.

"Why? Is there something wrong?" the former prince asked. Jojen seemed to snap out of a daze before he shook his head.

"Oh no, but has anything...strange happened to you?" asked Jojen and Conan got suspicious but continued.

"Well I started getting these weird dreams and every time its about some weird stuff; mostly animals" said Conan as he explained it to the two. He felt he could trust them, he was typically a good judge of character. "It's weird how it started after I saw this strange looking crow," he said then Jojen and Meera looked at each other. Conan caught the look and rose an elegant eyebrow.

"What? Have you seen it?" he asked. They both looked at Conan and slowly nodded.

"When Jojen was young, he almost die from greywater disease and when he was near death, a three-eyed crow came and visited him. Now he's had the very same dreams you and a few other people are having. Then a few days ago, Jojen had a dream of a dazed horse who was confused but fiercely kept moving forward despite it wasn't sure of the hallucinations it was getting. When he woke up, we were visited by the same crow and it told us that you needed to be educated a little bit as to what was going on," said Meera and Conan didn't know how to take all this but then a wild, fierce grin appeared on his face that radiated excitement and anxiousness.

"I KNEW I would love this place! I've barely been here a month and all this stuff is happening! I'm so excited, well let's go!" said Conan, eager to learn about Westerosi mysticism.

"Hahaha slow down," said Jojen. "You don't even know where we are going."

"Well, where are we going?" he asked

"Greywater Reach," said Jojen, expecting surprise but Conan simply nodded as if pretending to know what that was. The obvious fake was caught on and he realized he wasn't dealing with a native Westerosi.

"Ahahaha! We'll explain it on the way. Also; we were informed you loved learning about different forms of combat. Our people will teach you the crannog way...if you can handle it," said Meera in both a cheerful and challenging manner which Conan responded to with a confident smirk.

"Bring it on!" he said and for the next two weeks, Conan and the Reed siblings went to the Greywater Reach, bringing in the first Essosi to their stronghold and possibly the first outsider. Along the way, Conan had told the tales of his life as of thus far and they were blown away at what they heard as Meera struggled to keep her raging teenage hormones cool when she heard of how Conan learned the trade of pleasuring from several masters including a Yunkai'i woman named Gwen that taught him of the seven sighs and the sixteen seats of pleasure. She burned off some steam by showing Conan how to hunt in the way of her people so he would have some knowledge when they got there. Conan struggled rather unusually with the guerilla tactics due to the swamp terrain they were in. Conan told them about how he discovered the existence of the children of the Forest and the Old gods in Braavos and had wanted to always see the land of their worship since he was 6 years old. He had heard of the hardy, stern men of the North, their honor and much of their tales in their service to the Night's Watch which protected the Realm during the Long Night. He told them of his dreams an they were astonished he could dream so big. His dreams were both selfish and for the benefit of the Realm. They explained to him the nature of his dreams and how the animals were typically symbolic for someone who is or will be significant to you in the near future. He was told of skinchangers and wargs then of Jojen's greensight, of which he was envious because it meant he was getting closer to the culture of the fabled Children which he so badly wanted to learn about. He had collected a Dragonbone bow and Weirwood bow, hearing they were proficient at archery which he naturally was as a result of being a Dothraki, and excelling at the combat arts in the way he did made him exceptional even among the bow-and-arrow happy horselords. When they got there, he quickly gained the favor of many crannogmen, but more than that were upset with the fact that an outsider was brought into the fold. However, he ignored them and asked many of the elders for stories of the Children because he heard the crannogmen became closer to them during the olden days and stories were passed down to the elders. His good looks, wild personality and love of battle reminded Jojen and Meera's father, Howland Reed of Brandon Stark, the eldest brother of Ned Stark. Both were known for being handsome, hot-blooded, good natured and loved their swords. He also took to the guerilla and swamp warfare within the week, making use of the terrain as a bred crannogmen with a three-prong spear and net of his own. Conan was leading a hunt and as they were resting, he found himself prowling as a shadowcat nearing a group of humans that were napping as his stomach ached for food badly. One of them had olive skin, thick, loosely curled dark brown hair...long eyelashes...IT WAS HIM!

He suddenly awoke in his own body and he saw the shadowcat making its way out of the undergrowth, glowering its amber, slitted eyes and growled. Conan glared at it with just as much intensity that it shocked the creature before they charged at each other; Conan lashed out with a punch that slammed into the shadowcat's jaw that sent it flying and the shadowcat with a scratch that cut a gash in his chest. Conan got a feel for its personality in the instance of their clash; strong, vain, proud and that refused to be controlled by anyone. He could always get a better understanding of people when he was fighting them; it was like a language only he could understand that no one else knew they were speaking because many people poured their emotions through combat. The shadowcat started to stalk closer to Conan, moving gracefully but with strength and pride only a feline was capable of. Conan then remembered how starving it was, then looked over to his hunting party's leftover elk and deer meat which made for a better substitute than his flesh, in his own totally unbiased opinion. He then picked up the stick of which the meat was impaled on.

Conan kept his guard up because he knew cats could be deceptive but he could feel no killing intent or hostility from the creature's presence so he was slowly smiling more as he got closer. The shadowcat thought it might've been a ploy to get its guard down; its distrust could be seen in its posture and eyes but it truly wanted to believe. It hadn't eaten in days and it didn't typically go for human meat unless it was starving. It was on its last legs so it needed this food and was not as strong as it usually was due to not eating and it nearly lost its life to other hunters with the promise of food but barely made it out alive by the skin of its teeth.

Conan then suddenly stabbed the stick into the dirt before rubbing sticks against it until the middle section where the meats were stuck started roasting nicely before adding some seasoning that he started carrying when he began his overnights in the woods because the meat was too bland. He managed to make it by giving it a smokey flavor with the way he cooks it but the seasoning helped tons. The shadowcat saw Conan kneeling and thought it was an opening and pounced but Conan swung meat into its mouth, stopping it in its tracks before it started tearing into the meat. After several minutes, the stick was empty and the shadowcat looked healthier, more vibrant and satisfied. It lifted its head up to look at Conan who was simply grinning at the fact that the shadowcat ate good.

"Haha, good to see you feeling full, you were lookin a little starved..." said Conan as he grinned broader but then the shadowcat began circling Conan before rushing forward and...began rubbing its head against Conan's arm affectionately. Conan chuckled and rubbed behind its ears as it started to purr.

"This is gonna be fun to explain..."

Eventually he left Greywater's Reach when he heard of the Starks in Winterfell. He really wanted to meet the family of the ancient Kings of the North. Howland Reed had put in a good word to Lord Eddard Stark, current King of Winterfell and Head of House Stark. So that's where he was headed now.

Flashback End

He heard a high-pitched scream echo through the woods along with a beastly roar. He quickly donned his cloak and grabbed his bag before leaping onto a tree branch and hopping from branch to branch. In Westeros, Conan had rediscovered his love of climbing and he used them as a faster way to travel when the situation arose. He used it as a training method too as he typically wore his weighted cloak an armor while running agility and control exercises to being able to make the environment his playground, in battle and out. He saw below that Bharbor, his shadowcat companion who he named after the famous Dothraki khal who was also his grandfather, Khal Bharbo, was running at a fast pace towards the sound, too. It followed Conan everywhere ever since Conan saved it from starvation and showed it kindness unlike any other creature its come across.

When he got close enough, he almost lost concentration when he saw an absolutely stunningly beautiful girl his age with a heart-shaped face and thick, long, lustrous auburn hair; soft, supple, flawless, and clear fair skin; vivid, brilliant blue eyes; high cheekbones with a natural blush in her cheeks; a distinguished, straight nose; plump, soft pink lips and a slender, growing body donning a blue fine linen dress and a blue thick coat with fur lining around her hood and sleeves. She was pressed up against the tree he was on as a bear neared her, snarling.

Conan jumped from the branch and landed on the bear's shoulders with an anxious grin, eliciting another beastly roar from it as it rose up on its hind legs and stood at its full height before swiping over its head with its claws which Conan avoided by deftly backflipping over it, his body flipping several times in rapid succession, allowing his legs to slam into the bear's chin over and over that it knocked him back from the sheer power of each hit then the full force of the combined damage kicking in when he landed in a crouch. As Conan crouched, Bharbor pounced from the trees behind he and the girl, over Conan's body and knocked the bear harder down to the ground with its claws piercing its chest before it leaped away and started circling the bear.

It got up and its eyes were glazed with murderous intent and animalistic rage as the bear tore itself at the girl who began to scream at the immense fear induced by the bear's berserk state. The bear swiped its claw to rip her apart and the girl shut her eyes as she realized she was about to die. She waited for the excruciating pain followed by the sweet release of Death while thinking about everything she hadn't done or experienced but she thought it was weird that several seconds had passed and she felt nothing despite hearing sharp claws rip into flesh...

As she opened her eyes slowly, she saw her savior standing in front of her with his back to her, arms spread out as the bear's right claw was bloodied. Then she spotted the bear's face over the person's shoulder, who had their hood up so she couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl but the broad shoulders suggested boy, and saw that its eyes were dilated and the anger that overtook it was gone but a mix of nervousness and respect replaced it as Conan's piercing gaze seemed to tear into its soul, showing a tempered ungodly anger, intense focus to deal the bear immense pain and immense conviction to protect the girl, all at the cost of his own well-being. The pure hunger for battle that the creature recognized also scared it along with the previous vivid emotions, all of them forming this sense that he stood before an "alpha". A creature that commanded respect from other creatures and would fight fiercely, no matter what it was. This scared the bear to no end because of the intensity of its opponent's intense aquamarine eyes that seemed to glow within the darkness that his hood provided, and like when something is scared, it lashed out violently with a powerful swipe of its claws again to cross the 3 gashes it just made in Conan's torso but the sound of metal sliding against metal, similar to a drawing sword and it took everyone's minds a few seconds to process a gray blur moving in between the incoming claw and Conan.

There was 3 light thuds then the girl behind Conan saw in her savior's hand; a Westerosi hand-and-a-half longsword with a rather large but exquisitely crafted, extremely sharp, double edged blade of Valyrian steel; at the base of the blade there was the beginning of the metallic handguard with an array of scale-shaped metal ornately designed in unique patterns resembling two dragon horns pointing upwards in the direction of the blade. Below it two upside down metallic dragon heads formed the main hand guard with their mouths open and small ruby eyes to recreate the look of terrifying fury that real dragons were remembered for, facing outward with 2 metallic fangs in both mouths; both teeth for the top set and a spiked tongue coming out of both of their mouths. There was space in between their skulls for there to be a ruby with an uncanny black slit in the middle fitted into the top of the hilt which looked as if two long, Valyrian Steel-made, thinner rods were coiled around each other. Everything was made of Valyrian steel, which was rare to see as most swords nowadays only had Valyrian Steel for the blades. The sword looked mighty and magnificent with a presence of...pride belonging to a king. As if it would take whatever it master desired; no country or army too big. The bear then noticed its claws were cleanly severed and saw a merciful, almost playful look in those eyes that terrified him before. What was even weirder was that these emotions terrified the bear even more so accompanied with respect to this superb creature because he could see in those piercing green orbs that it wasn't an accident that the claws were all he hit. It seemed as if it chose to only to strike the claws and his eyes clearly spoke of the threat that he would go much farther if he continued to attack the other human. There seemed to be several things holding the alpha back from killing him; one was a self-imposed restraint that had its origins in a concept that the bear could not comprehend as human concepts such as honor, nobility, continence, and morals. However, it was able to understand the intense love of battle that was equally present, dictating that not killing opponents would make for more opponents in the future. It was only out of respect for the alpha's battle-oriented nature and self-preservation that the bear lowered its head as if it were bowing then slowly turned and walked into the woods. Conan grinned broadly and then chuckled in an easygoing manner as if he was seeing off a friend, however, it looks as if the damsel wasn't so laidback.

"What in the Seven Hells are you doing!? Go kill that beast!" she screamed with a glare. As beautiful she was, she was getting irritating. That commanding, entitled air screamed of nobility, especially with those garments.

"As fun as it sounds to follow the orders of a temperamental girl to kill something that stopped trying to kill her...no" stated Conan with a rhythmic laugh which was a more of a laugh that he was having at the expense of a good friend that the girl found made her want to stop being angry and just laugh along with him. His easygoing and joyful personality was contagious despite the bite of sarcasm. He turned around though his hood still cast a shadow over his face but she could clearly see the most strikingly beautiful pair of intense, piercing, brilliant, lucid and vivid aquamarine eyes full of passion, daring, adventure, freedom and a certain disregard for rules, it was a more mature, more seducing version of the kin in her younger brother's with a strong, deep and entrancing black pupil in the center. Even the whites of his eyes were bright and shining.

"Hello?" said Conan, his smooth, tenor voice bringing her out of her daze from gazing into his eyes. Her cheeks reddened a bit but she maintained her glare and stern disposition.

"It tried to kill me! And you! How are you even standing and joking around with a wound like that!?" she exclaimed as she saw three thin but fairly deep gashes in the boy's chest. She noted his cloak was almost fine except for some cuts in the fabric but the shirt he was wearing underneath was cut to ribbons and when the wounds healed up, there would be a nice set of three scars going from the top of his left pec to the bottom edge of his right pec. She could already tell he had some semblance of a well-developing physique by his broad shoulders and the form-fitting brown pants he wore that outlined his muscle-developing legs, it looked like an incomplete sculpture made by a superb artisan though still in the developing stages. The girl was floored at his attitude; before he had this terrifying, convicted, stubborn, commanding and hungry air that excited as a teenage girl would and scared her while also making her feel protected and safe with the knowledge that a person with such an indomitable will and excellent martial skills had come to her rescue. But the entire time it seemed as if he was enjoying the short confrontation to the point it was as if he was being playful despite being wounded. However, unlike other warriors, he wasn't getting angry though it seemed as if the bear was walking on thin ice because the boy's air had darkened so much that she almost expected him to explode with anger but he kept it cool for the most part, though she saw him already draw his sword a little beforehand as he dragged his finger along the sharp edge to distract himself. His body seemed to shake from where she stood with what she thought to be restrained anger and irritation threatening to pour out into a bloody show of frenzied destruction all concentrated to the single bear. Then as if nothing happened, he laughed it off when the bear gave up and started joking around her while he bled profusely from his wounds.

"A great man once told me there is only one thing we say to Death; 'Not today'. Its too troublesome to focus on the negative. Its so stressful to feel self-pity and wallow in despair. I choose to move on and take all the bad experiences that help me gain strength with each time I push through the hard times," said Conan. He had learned in Braavos that his negative attitude and close-mindedness resulted in him doing what tortured him when he was a child in the Dothraki Sea. All that singling out resulted in his low self-esteem and expectancy that everyone would find him strange and inapproachable. He didn't even have any Dothraki friends his age then except Rakharo; at least not until he saved them from Khal Ogo's ko. However, as he grew up, he found it bettered his chances of getting friends and meeting people by getting rid of his negativity while retaining his wit and sarcastic humor. Social interactions didn't come easy to him so he went at it as he went after battle, he studied all the mechanics behind it and broke it all down to make sure he had every aspect down. It apparently worked rather well since he made friends with the impossibly hard-hearted Unsullied soldiers. The girl looked at him, a little surprised that someone who sounds as young as she was saying something that wise.

"And, it tried to kill me too. After I made it clear that I would inflict mass amounts of pain to it if it continued to mess with us, it was more than okay with leaving us alone. Plus how could I be mad at it when it gave me these cool souvenirs and helped me meet the most beautiful girl in the North," said Conan with a chuckle as she blushed heavily, her cheeks redder than her auburn hair.

"Y-you really think I'm beautiful?" she asked with a rather sincere tone which conveyed to Conan the ridiculously gorgeous girl wasn't complimented as she should have been but it was this very attitude that seemed refreshing to Conan than the usual confidence or vanity he was met with when he complimented other noble girls.

"Hahaha I do indeed," he said with a chuckle before he sheathed his swords and picked up the three bear claws. He got an idea and drew a Braavosi style needle-thin dagger modeled after the sword and with Conan's strength, he punctured small holes a little near the top then slid a piece of string through them that made them a necklace. He brought his hands up which held both ends of the string that he was going to tie around his neck, simultaneously throwing his hood back which elicited a gasp from the girl. As he tied the two ends together behind his neck, she took in his beautiful facial features. His gorgeous, thick, luxurious, wavy almost curling and flowing darkened brown almost black hair, that became this way from the sun's rays constantly on it since he was a child, framed his face like her older brother's, but a little wilder. Conan's skin had lost the tanned glow it got from the constant sun rays of the Free Cities beating down on it so it regained its exotic golden brown, honey olive skin that he shared with his father, Khal Drogo. They were both light compared to the usual darker olive tones in their tribe. She did not expect those aquamarine eyes that looked like the beautiful bluish-green color of the Essosi waters to be in between an almond shaped eye that had numerous, long, almost feminine like black eyelashes on both eyelids that added to his exotic look. He had remarkably high cheekbones, a distinguished, straight nose with a prominent tip above wonderfully pillowed pinkish red lips which were pulled back against a flawless set of brilliant white teeth that she only saw among nobles, a strong, angular jawline which's effects were diminished by his chubby-ish cheeks though that was slowly being burned by puberty as they spoke. He was more comely than the other noble boys that she had seen, both her age and older. Overall she was speechless, and luckily she was saved when another roar ripped through the air. Conan swept her up into his arms bridal style before whipping around and darting in the direction of the sound. Bharbor followed after them; it had let Conan deal with the bear alone before because its instincts told it that he had to see how his master would fare in such a situation and that his master wanted to do it by himself.

When they got there, there were a number of logs piled onto each other with a small bear trying to push some off. After much examination, Conan and the girl saw a big bear paw similar in size to the bear they had just confronted, with its claws at their stubs and each smoothly cut. That was the only indication that anything was under the pile.

"It must be its kid..." muttered Conan. The small bear seemed to be crying and roaring in distress as it kept trying, but to no avail. What surprised Conan was when the girl leapt from his arms and literally knelt by the bear, which noticed her and started roaring its loudest at her, trying to be intimidating. However, she reigned in her fear and shot an unbelievably stubborn glared at the bear, before giving it a comforting smile and somehow, the small bear was pacified. Conan was astonished that she had gone from condemning the bear to trying to save it when he saw her begin to pull at the logs. She looked sincerely driven to save the bear.

"What happened to wanting to kill it?" Conan asked smugly as the girl's ears reddened in embarrassment.

"Shut up! I can't just sit back and watch as it dies in front of its child! That's sick and cruel! I was just angry before..." she said, feeling rather strongly about the immorality of killing. "I...I see why you refuse to do it now and I promise to never make such a statement ever again!" she resolved as Conan grinned broadly at her change. This only furthered his belief that change happened instantaneously.

"Don't die, bear! Hold on, I'll...ugh!...save you!" she stated as Bharbor went over beside her, nuzzling her side affectionately as he saw a will to protect almost similar to his master's. He started clawing at the logs, its strong, wiry muscles rippling underneath its skin as it chipped the wood. With all their combined efforts, they managed to bring out two logs but the logs on top fell in to replace them, eliciting an unlady-like remark from the girl and roars of frustration from Bharbo and the bear.

"FUCK!" she screamed as it echoed through the clearing. This was soon followed by the boisterous laughter of Conan at their expense, which garnered their attention as they then shot him dirty looks that would have obliterated him if looks could kill. He held his stomach and continued to laugh.

The girl quickly turned away and bit down on her lower lip to prevent the infectious nature of Conan's joy get to her, but to her surprise, it looked as if Bharbor and the bear somehow were doing the equivalent of a snicker. She was torn out of her inspections when she saw the bear glare at Conan and roar defensively as it bore its fangs, probably thinking Conan was a threat as he walked closer to them. As Conan neared, the bear got more and more timid to the point it backed up against the pile of logs with its eyes looking nervous as Conan's shadow cast over it. Conan's face was blank of emotion as he crouched, looking the bear in the eyes with his piercing, intense green ones.

He then started to reach out his hand and the bear, in fear, shut its eyes and the girl didn't know what he was doing but she knew he wouldn't hurt it, despite just meeting him and not even knowing his name, she could tell the kind of person he was. He almost reminded her of her father a little bit, he had that honorable air about him too.

The bear felt Conan's warm, inviting hand on its head as it rubbed between its ears. It slowly opened its eyes and saw Conan's just as warm, broad grin that dashed away all of its fears before he stood up and walked around to the side of the pile. Conan then bent down and grabbed the big bear paw with his left hand before standing up and in that same motion, he simultaneously pulled the bear through the pile of logs which the other three had to avoid as it fell all over the place. Conan grit his teeth at the strain the bear's weight had on his arm but it was manageable. The smaller bear yelped in happiness as Conan lowered the older bear down and nuzzled its parent. The elder bear then looked at Conan, a bit confused why its former opponent would go out of his way to save it and Conan just grinned. The bear seemed to understand to some extent by the look that not only did Conan want to befriend it but that battle solidified their bond and he refused to let it die in any other way besides a glorious one in battle. There was also just a refusal to let anything die if he could help it. The bear gratefully roared as Conan then walked over to the girl.

"Th-that was amazing! How did you lift that bear!? Especially with all of that debris, I could barely get that log out!" the girl exclaimed as she hugged Conan in her joy that the family was reunited before she quickly realized what she was doing and stepped back just as quickly with an embarrassed look. Conan simply stepped up and hugged her with a smile which momentarily caused her mind to go blank before she wrapped her arms around him.

"I've been training since before I could walk to be a warrior but I pushed myself harder so that I can one day be the best. Those are simply some of the fruits from my training," said Conan as he pulled slightly back to look at her though arms still snaked around her slender waist.

"The best? That's almost impossible, there are so many warriors in Westeros alone, let alone the world," she said with disbelief but she saw amusement, impossibly strong conviction and daring in Conan's eyes.

"That's what I've decided to do. I've dedicated my life to it so I'm going to do it. Simple. Then I am going to fight amazing battles," said Conan as his voice and eyes were overflowing with confidence as if he knew he would do it. It was simply amazing to her, she didn't understand but she was starting to believe in him too.

"Conan," he said which brought her out of her amazement. Then she intelligently responded with "Huh?"

"Haha my name. Conan Battleborn," he stated with pride as she realized he was the boy that all the rumors were about. She had brushed him off as some new urban legend of the North but he was real. He was better than the rumors suggested.

"My name is Sansa Stark," she said with a soft smile.

"You're a Stark!?" he asked incredulously and she giggled before nodding.

"I was just heading to Winterfell to request an audience with Lord Stark, himself," said Conan with a grin. His luck was turning out great but then he remembered his dream of the direwolf in trouble and what Jojen told him about the dreams. Things were certainly getting interesting.

"Well, since you did save his eldest daughter, I'm sure he'll agree definitely," said Sansa

"What were you even doing out here?" asked Conan and she shyly looked to the ground

"I was...looking for flowers to make for our embroidery class," she said and Conan looked at her for a moment. He suddenly burst out laughing uncontrollably and after a few minutes, Sansa finally couldn't take it and laughed alongside him. They laughed long and hard but they both eventually stopped, with the occasional chuckle and giggle from Conan and Sansa, respectively.

"So you DO have a sense of humor. Thank goodness, I thought all you nobles were incapable of it," said Conan as he ducked a swat from Sansa.

"I'll have you know I'm hilarious!" she said cutely as she shot him a look that made it seem as if what she said was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Hahaha, actually that was a pretty funny joke. Well played, Stark," said Conan with a cheeky smirk and a beautiful, soft laugh erupted from Sansa again as she bumped her shoulder into his.

"You're a bastard," she said with a laugh and Conan just grinned before bowing over-dramatically, in an obvious attempt to poke fun at noble customs.

"My Fair Lady, shall you do me the honor of accompanying me to Winterfell?" he asked in a southern Westerosi accent; the southerners being especially self-absorbed into their "eloquent and civilized" nature.

"Why yes, my Handsome Knight," she replied in a joking manner with a courtesy as she hooked her arm around his and they laughed as they walked that way to Winterfell with Bharbor trailing behind them before suddenly running in between them, causing them to split.

"Oh you are so dead, Bharbor!" shouted Conan with a grin as he ran after the shadowcat and tackled it before playfully wrestling it. Suddenly Sansa joined and they all began rolling around in a ball before Bharbo slipped out and smirked slyly in a feline manner as Conan and Sansa were now wrestling. Laughing, Conan stopped trying and let Sansa pin him. Sansa was surprised at herself, she never acted this way but Conan just brought out the playful, violent nature in her. This was mostly Arya's thing, which their father called a result of "wolfsblood". As he looked up at her with her on top of him, she quickly got up, not knowing where the break in her lady-like behavior came from.

"Ahem...we should get going, shouldn't we?" she said and Conan chuckle and nodded. He then got up then started walking towards Winterfell with Sansa at his side and Bharbor at his other side. Conan and Sansa talked the entire way, quickly becoming good friends but both having to restrain themselves from acting on their desires...for now.

After hours, they eventually came upon a massive castle complex spanning several acres with lights illuminating from inside the castles and lit torches along the walls and along buildings in the complex glowing within the darkness of the night which had fell during their walk. Conan was taken aback by the sheer natural beauty of the castle, snow and the night. It and the area around it truly looked like a place built during the Age of Heroes and where amazing people inhabited; meaning both the brave Northmen who built the castles and the Children of the Forest who used to roam these very woods. Sansa never had so much pride to live here than she did after Conan told her of his obsession with the North and the look on his face now was just astounding at how someone who had never seen it could appreciate such subtle beauty when she had never even paid it any mind until now. She had always wanted to go down south and be with all the proper ladies and be courted by the handsome lords and knights. Now, she was rather content with Winterfell.

"Here we are..." she said with proud tone in her voice that Conan couldn't help but envy that she could take because it was her home.

"Winterfell..." he said as his voice died out as a crisp breeze sounded through the area.

Chapter End!

Hey guys, sorry it took so long. You would not believe how many times someone in my family accidentally tripped over my charger which shut my laptop off and me being an idiot for not saving it after every paragraph, I lost whole chunks of text and had to keep starting over. This chapter was mostly about how strong the human spirit is. I believe all of you are capable of this immense will and passion that it infects even beings that can't fully understand it, like animals. The adaptive and enduring nature of the human spirit during tough times coupled with an intensely positive mindset can do wonders, which is what I hope you all are getting from Conan. He is supposed to be the epitome of the human aspect of struggle. Except whereas most of us want to avoid struggle, he welcomes struggle because he not only knows it is inevitable but with perseverance through struggle, comes strength which he seeks above all. The part with the lightning was partly about endurance but it was also half something else I've got up my sleeve which also explains the fire. And no he is not a Targaryen. You guys know what to do with the reviews and I hope you guys are enjoying it. Also; I apologize for the confusion in this chapter and the first with Rakharo. Cohollo was supposed to be Khal Drogo's old friend. I recently found out that Rakharo is one of the youngest main Dothraki in the series. Oh and if one person can correctly identify a certain sword that was used in this chapter in a review, I'll add a custom GoT character of them if they so choose. Until next time, guys :o

Ja Ne!


End file.
